Spiders vs Snakes
by veniceit
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER UP: Chance and Ilsa find themselves in a lot of trouble in South America. Explores Chance's similarities to INDIANA JONES! Influence from Both HT & Indiana Jones: Chapter 10 ***** THE END *******
1. Chapter 1

Spiders vs. Snakes

_**I've had this idea for a while now. Chance reminds me of Indiana Jones and the comparisons are not an accident by Human Target's creators. I've wanted to write my own Indiana Jones/Chance style story, borrowing from the Raiders series just as much as the Human Target series. The comparisons to Raiders are intentional, I've borrowed their ideas and used them for inspiration. **_

_**Seriously, Chance's fear of spiders is identical to Indy's fear if snakes.**_

_**So I intend no infringements for both Human Target and I guess the Raiders series as well. I own nothing from either of them…..**_

**Chapter one**:

"Ilsa, where the hell is the antidote!" Chance yelled as they recklessly tore down the winding mountain road in a military style truck, Chance desperate to keep control at the wheel.

"I don't know!" She screamed back in a state of panic as her body flopped back and forth in the cab crashing into the passenger's side door, than back against Chance as he shoved her off to keep control.

"Ilsa, now!" He bellowed concentrating hard on the small road that was wide enough for only one vehicle at a time. He was turning red and the sweat was dripping into his eyes making it hard for him to see. He removed one hand from the steering wheel to try to loosen the tie on his tuxedo.

"It's gone," she shrilled! Patting down her body. "I must have lost it when we jumped off the balcony!" She stared at him with terror, like he was suppose to do something. "Chance, are they still pursuing us?"

They had made a narrow escape on a plan that had gone bad over a balcony to a pool below. Which was beginning to become way too much of a habit.

"Ilsa," Chance tried to sound calm, "I need that antidote…..now! Or it's not going to matter if they catch us or not!" He took his eyes of the road long enough to look her in the eyes to focus her back to the task at hand. He knew, if he died she was doomed.

A sharp hair pin turn, Ilsa flew against the door. "I put it down the front of my dress….."

Chance shot her a stupefied look, "you what?" The wheels of the truck caught the side of the rocky road and the truck slanted toward the cliff, Chance pulled it back just in time.

"Well, I didn't want to lose it….oh dear god, I'm going to be sick!" Ilsa placed her hand on her chest and closed her eyes.

He was starting to see spots now which was only increasing the already extremely dangerous situation they found themselves in.

The Jeeps behind them were gaining on them and in this clanking old truck they were going to be caught soon.

Chance continued to scan the mountain side as they clattered and skidded down the gravel road. "That'll do nicely, yes, that'll work."

"What? What will do nicely?" Ilsa asked very worried, she'd seen that look way too many times.

"We're going to do it again." He looked at her and smiled, eyebrows raised searching for a vote of confidence as they bounced in their seats.

"Oh no, no we aren't," Ilsa protested, "are you completely mad?" She knew her objection was no use but she felt the need to say it anyway.

They were coming up to about a quarter of a mile of straight road which turned sharply away from a boundless, immense, steep cliff that ended in a cold river below.

"Take my belt off my pants!" Chance ordered!

She stared at him with big confused eyes while bracing her arms against the dash board and seat then without a word busily got down and started to undo his belt. They hit a bump and her head smashed up again the steering wheel. "Ouch!" She stopped to rub her head.

"_Ilsa_!"

"Right," she got back to her mission and pulled the belt through it's loops and handed it to Chance. "Get ready," he calmly said as he started to steady the steering wheel with his belt looping it through the steering wheel and around the column to keep the truck straight and on the road.

Then he grabbed her hips and started to steer her through the cabs back window into the back of the truck. "Get through there!"

As she wiggled herself through she caught her evening gown and ripped it as she tumbled down. "This is a bad idea! This isn't going to work, I'm going to have to strongly object." She continued to protest in vain. "There has to be a different solution!"

Chance ignored her and pushed himself through behind her. Once in the back of the truck he grabbed her arm and dragged her to the opening at the back, the loose green canopy was flopping loudly in the wind. "When the truck goes over the edge, Jump. Push yourself away from it!" He hollered over the noise.

Sheer terror engulfed Ilsa face, "Please, please Chance, there has to be a better way," she tugged on his arm pleadingly.

Before she could finish her protest the truck went off the side of the road and flowed down the magnificent drop to the river below. Chance pulled Ilsa up to the opening and jumped while pushing off the truck away from it, without letting go of his grip on her arm.

The fall seemed to last forever, almost like slow motion. There legs ran in the open air.

The truck broke the cool water first and they followed shortly next to it.

They went down deep, into the cold shocking water, bubbles tickled past them as they sank. As they began to float back to the surface, in one quick motion Chance pulled Ilsa close and thrust his hand down the front of her dress, digging, searching, exploring all around while at the same time pushing them to the surface.

Ilsa startled and stunned struggled to get herself away from Chance.

His fingers finally felt the little glass vial and he closed his hand around it and pulled it out.

They broke through the water's surface and Ilsa angrily pulled herself out of his grip as she tread water, "I could have got that for you, I felt it re-appear when we hit the water." she turned away annoyed to look at her surroundings and when he couldn't see her face she allowed herself to break into a devious smirk.

Chance opened the glass vial and gulped the antidote.

_**45 Minutes Earlier**_

"Everyone, eyes and ears open," Chance mumble only loud enough to be audible to the gang listening via earpiece.

Chance dressed in a stunning tuxedo escorted by an equally stunning Ilsa walked into a high end club somewhere in South America located inside a posh resort.

A barely dressed woman was singing on stage in Spanish. There was a sultry feel to the air, and the hired staff were women with such beauty that they looked like they were picked right off a fashion runway.

They continued to walk into the ostentatious lounge area. This is where the rich came, and usually shady to unwind.

Ilsa was on Chance's arm, he leaned towards her ear, "you look amazing." In a room full of gorgeous women, Ilsa was still standing out and Chance couldn't help but notice.

She was dressed in a full length black gown that looked elegant in the front and simple with a swooping neckline. With the exception of a clasp at her shoulder blades, her entire back, from the clasp down to the curve of her butt, was exposed and bare. The skirt of the dress cascaded from her butt to the floor. There was a slit that went right up to her hip, high silver heels and her hair was hung loose and soft.

She smiled, "you clean up well yourself." She could see all the woman turn when he walked in the room, she was the envy of them all.

"Mr and Mrs Saunders." They were greeted by a beautiful brunette with a generous bust,"please this way, they are waiting for you."

She escorted them across the room to a more private section where there was a group of well dressed men enjoying the entertainment and overindulging in drinks and exchanging loud laughter.

Mr. Castillo stood to greet them, "Ah, Mr Saunders, welcome." Shaking Chance's hand, then to Ilsa, "Mrs Saunders," taking her hand and kissing it, "you are simply stunning!" Back to Chance, "you are a lucky man."

"Thank you," Ilsa smile as Chance took Ilsa's hand back from Castillo's.

Chance held out a chair for Ilsa to take, she gingerly walked over and took it as Chance pushed her in, then he took a seat himself next to her.

Pleasantries were over, right down to business.

"I hope you have the item." Castillo narrowed his eyes at Chance and snapped his fingers for a waitress. "Please darling, get um.." he gestured toward Chance.

"We'll have two vodka martini on the rocks," Chance answered then continued, "yes, I have it, where's Fitzpatrick?" Chance began to familiarize himself with his surroundings. They were on the fourth floor and several extravagant balcony's adorned the room.

There was only the main entrance and an emergency exit off the dance floor and it was obvious it was being monitored by some thugs.

"He's safe, he'll be returned, give me the item." Castillo seethed through his teeth yet he face appeared friendly and light to any onlookers.

Ilsa shifted nervously in her chair, Chance remained cool and unscathed.

Chance leaned back looking around the room, smiling friendly, "not until you give us Fitzpatrick." He raised his eyebrows as their drinks were delivered by a smiling sexy waitress.

Ilsa grabbed it and took a big swig.

"Please excuse us, we need a private moment." Castillo stood and walked away with a few of his guys, leaving a few behind.

Chance took his drink and finished it, put the glass down on the table and took Ilsa by the hand and swung her onto the dance floor. She easily flung into his strong arms as he held her close, his hand firmly holding her bare back.

He lead her slowly around the dance floor to a slow sexy salsa song. He needed an excuse to get away from the table to talk freely. "They aren't going to give us Fitzpatrick. This exchange isn't happening. We need an Aunt Linda" Chance whispered into her ear, more for the benefit of Guerrero and Winston listening at their undercover locations.

The message was bleak but staying true to character it's tone and gesture was delivered seductively and sensually by Chance and feeling his breath on her neck and in her ear made Ilsa hair on her neck stand up.

"What shall we do?" Ilsa nervously replied but smiling trying to maintain her character's cover.

Winston via earpiece, "don't get dead!"

"Follow my lead." Chance took her hand and lead her back to the table.

* * *

><p><strong>So I just wanted to get this down while it was in my head. It's more of an experiment. Not sure what I'll do with it, if anything. I still have the other story to finish too, but needed this out. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**So if you have Human Target Season one on DVD and you watched the bonus material you'll see the reference to Indiana Jones and The Raiders movies several times. **

**Again, I'm borrowing from the Raiders Movies and Human Target. I intend no infringements!**

**It's meant to be fun and entertaining. **

_**Very, very special Thanks to **_**Niagaraweasel**_** and**_ **Cedricsowner**_**: Those two rock and are a never ending source of encouragement and creative help. They really helped me pull this chapter together and improve it in so many ways. I probably would not have continued on without their amazing help, support, suggestions and corrections. big "hearts" out to you both! Not just the way they've helped me but by how they are so busy in this forum making it a better place. **_

**Spiders vs. Snakes**

Chapter two:

Moments later Chance and Ilsa returned to the table, Ilsa, trying her best to follow Chance's lead. Chance had his arm around her waist and was teasingly holding her close as they walked, whispering in her ear. Ilsa was smiling and giggling back like he was whispering what he wanted to do to her later when he got her alone, of course, he was actually giving her a pep talk, assuring her she could pull this off and warning her to stay close.

Castillo returned at the same time with even more thugs with the sole purpose of intimidation.

Ilsa clung to Chance's arm nervously, probably squeezing it too tight but he didn't show any indication of this.

Both parties eyed each other cautiously.

They had all settled back at the table, except for Castillo's goons, who circled the table as if standing on guard.

When Castillo had left the table it was to confer with his boss. The powerful man remained anonymous, using Castillo as the face of his organization. He was solely responsible for the kidnapping of Gavin Fitzpatrick and was holding him for ransom until he his demands were met. His corrupt reputation strongly indicated that in all likelihood his end of the bargain would not be honoured.

The mobsters flashed their hardware. _They were packing some impressive heat_. Chance gave a nod with a cocked eyebrow, leaned back and put his arm on the back of Ilsa's chair. "Come on guys, no need to go looking for trouble. We've met your demands, now give us Fitzpatrick!" he said keeping his voice light and friendly.

"Met our demands?" Castillo hissed, "I don't see the idol, you said you had it with you, what you have it in your pocket?" he finished sarcastically.

"I don't actually have it _with_ me," Chance answered with a cocky smile removing his arm from Ilsa's chair, "tell your boss….."

"He's through with you and your games, give us the idol now or Fitzpatrick meets a violent end." Castillo eyes flared with anger.

"Well, see, now, that's the kicker isn't it," Chance signaled to a passing waitress to get him another drink. "We were pretty sure you wouldn't just hand him over so…."

Castillo cut him off again. "Are you feeling okay Mr. Saunders? Are you sure you want another?" He was smiling with confidence. Chances eyes shot to Castillo. "Yes," he said slowly and cautiously. Come to think of it, was it getting warm in here?

Ilsa's eyes darted back and forth from Castillo to Chance, _maybe she should have switched covers with Ames. _

"You see Mr. Saunders; we thought you might not bring the idol, which is why we took liberty of poisoning your drink." All the men at the table laughed as Chance held his glare, contemplating his next move.

Slowly Ilsa placed the drink she had been holding back on the table, eyeing it fearfully.

"Oh Mrs. Saunders, please," Castillo shook his head sympathetically. "We didn't poison you! Lucky for you your beauty will prove to be very useful." He eyed her up and down with a perverted look. "You will be very popular, yes, you will bring in a lot of money." He rubbed his chin smirking.

Ilsa shifted closer to Chance and latched onto his arm. She needed him to save her like he always did, a life as a high end hooker would kill her. But she couldn't imagine how he could save her, now that he was poisoned and the thought completely terrified her. He had pulled off some pretty amazing stunts but what if he had met his match.

Now Chance's anger flared at Ilsa's obvious distress and his concern for her caused him to show his first outward signs of worry. He tensed in his chair and was about to lunge towards Castillo but was stopped by the flash of metal - a reminder of the concealed artillery pointing at him and Ilsa.

Reluctantly he eased back down.

"All you have to do is produce the idol and the antidote is yours." Castillo rolled the tiny glass vial in his fingers.

"Gentlemen, please, let's not get carried away." Chance tried to sound nonchalant. "If I die you'll never see your precious idol." Chance flashed back to the incredible ordeal he had went through to get the damn thing.

Several days ago Chance and the team had been hired by John Fitzpatrick, to help get his brother Gavin back. The two brothers were also business partner in their own non-profit Archaeology Contracting Company.

Their business motto and approach was strictly committed to the understanding of past societies and the development of the human race, and to putting these findings in museums once they had been studied.

After their meeting with John it had quickly become clear that this mission wasn't going to be their usual "run in and save the client from harm and/or death."

There was going to be another part.

The item that Gavin was being held for was an ancient Idol that was thought to be the final piece of a group of three. Two had been unearthed but the all important third had never been recovered.

The Fitzpatrick brothers had been the ones to discover the first two. It had taken them over seven years of planning and excavating suffering unimaginable circumstances, sleepless night and several close calls for them and their hired crew.

Disheartened in the end they had been forced to turn over their findings to Castillo's boss. When they had tried in vain to explain that the third would be unrealistic and impossible to retrieve Castillo and his men kidnapped one of the brothers as an incentive to find it anyway.

The problem was that they were a team, one was the brains, the other was the muscle. Their work complimented each other. Where one was weak the other made up for it. But even with their combined skills and their dedicated alliance they had insisted that the mission was completely inconceivable.

This was the other part of the rescue: before Chance could save Gavin, he had to find that missing third idol.

To do that Chance had to transform himself into renowned archaeologist Scott Saunders. A made up cover but nonetheless a viable one, that Guerrero had put into place.

Chance also knew that giving them the idol only meant his certain death as well as Fitzpatrick's and worse, Ilsa being forced to sell herself to dirty rich men. This was not an option. He wasn't going to let that happen.

.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - I believe the similarities between Chance and his fear of spiders was directly created to mirror Indy's fear of snakes. Here are two men that can do anything and they are afraid of absolutely nothing but when faced with snakes or spiders they momentarily lose their grip...but regain it really fast to complete what ever mission they are tackling.**

**I intend no infringements and do not own anything of Human Target.**

_**BIG THANKS again to Niagaraweasel and Credricsowner. They were a great help in polishing up this story and it means so much to me that they take the time to help.**_

**Spiders vs. Snakes**

**Chapter 3**

_**South American Rainforest, 3 days earlier, small makeshift campsite:**_

"Are you sure this map is recent?" Chance asked as the men crowded around a small wobbly table illuminated by a kerosene lamp.

"As recent as it gets," John reassured them.

"I don't know," Winston chimed in, "it's looks pretty primitive."

"So this was it?" Chance ran his fingers along the drawing of what appeared to be outer walls, ignoring Winston.

"It's all we could get to. There appear to be other chambers but it's just not possible to reach them. Too dangerous." John explained.

"Dangerous how?" Chance 's interest peaked.

"We barely survived finding the first two pieces. It's a maze of booby traps and rotting, unstable and extremely old architectural structures. They weren't meant to be found and especially not removed." John felt the men's eyes burning holes into him.

"Look, we are just archaeologists; this is real life, not some Indiana Jones movie." John tried to defend himself.

"I need to go down there, tomorrow." Chance put his hands on his hips, completely ignoring John's warning. "Your brother is running out of time, I need to find that third idol. It's our best leverage."

"You'll die! Dozens of men have attempted for decades to try to reach those chambers, none of them have survived to tell about it." John furiously shook his head, was the guy completely mad?

Ignoring him Chance walked over to a nearby crate. "I need to see the other two idols. You said there was a photo album in here with pictures of them?" Chance started rummaging through the crate.

"He's not a dozen men, dude, he's Chance." Guerrero said, as if that was all that was required for an explanation.

John stared from Guerrero to Winston, clearly confused. Since he met them he had witnessed nothing but disagreement and tension between these two. But now, for the first time, their solidarity was unmistakable. The look on the two men's faces was enough to convince John he needn't question this again.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" came a soft voice from a lawn chair behind them. "I mean, can't you just rush in and take him." They all turned to stare at her, "I mean, that's usually what you do, isn't it?" Ilsa felt it was a logical questions, why the stunned looks?

"Whose idea was it to bring her?" Guerrero thumped towards her.

"We need her for phase three." Chance added simply, not looking up as he continued to unpack things from the crate.

"I thought Ames was pulling off the Norma Jean?" Guerrero asked. He had joined the team late due to some personal business he had to attend to so he wasn't privy to every detail.

"She is, that's phase two." Chance explained as Ames mindlessly glanced through a Cosmo magazine off by herself. The two men glanced at her, then Chance went back to searching for the pictures and Guerrero joined the other two men back at the map.

"_**What the hell**_….!" An intense howl was followed by some crashing.

It was coming from Chance as he stumbled back and knocked over a few chairs and other supplies, almost falling on his ass.

Everyone stared at him, puzzled. This was so uncharacteristic of Chance.

Chance felt their perplexed looks and immediately caught himself. He held up what looked like a child's bug collecting cage with a disgusted look.

"There's a big spider in here, John!" Chance growled.

"Oh, that's just our pet, Maggie." John explained.

"I hate spiders, John, I hate 'em!" Chance expression said it all.

"Come on man, show a little back bone will ya, she's been with us since we found the idol." John walked up and took the insect cage from Chance. "She's our lucky charm."

As soon as the rest realized what caused Chance's outburst they nonchalantly went back to what they were doing before. Anyone close to Chance was well aware of his phobia of spiders.

Chance suppressed a shudder. "He named it," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

The temperature had dropped and cooled off the humid air. A light mist started to lightly sprinkle the camp.

Ilsa shivered slightly and Chance instinctively turned to her. After all that Ilsa had gone through in the past few months he had subconsciously conceived an internal homing device in regards to her every move, discomfort, or fear.

"It's getting late." Winston finally observed. "We'd better all try to get some rest before tomorrow." Nothing more could be accomplished tonight, especially if it was raining. "Wait a minute," he did a quick count of the site, "There are only three tents!" His tone was now angry and suspicious. He was concerned, he didn't recall any discussion on sleeping arrangements, please God, don't let him have to sleep with...

"Don't worry dude, I don't snore," Guerrero grunted and started to walk towards a tent, "but I do like to sleep in the nude, so no spooning."

Chance chuckled as he studied the pictures of the idols he had finally found.

"Oh, no...Hell no...I ain't sleeping in the same tent as that low life bottom feeder!" Winston protested. "I don't give a flying donkey's ass...…why the hell...…"

Everyone started walking away in Winston's mid sentence and entered their respective tents leaving him alone in the rain to cool him off.

Ames was staying with John, he was in no threat and no one trusted Guerrero to be alone in a tent with Ames, not even himself. It was just safer for everyone.

Chance felt it unsafe for the girls to stay alone in a tent so Chance ended up with Ilsa. It just kind of worked out that way, or did it?

Each tent was equipped with cots to sleep on. Ilsa entered her tent first and sat on hers hugging herself as her eyes nervously wandered up and down the tent.

Inside the tent it was loud. The mist had turned into a full-blown downpour and the big drops splattered against the canopy of the tent and the forest was awake and active with the nocturnal creatures coming alive.

"You okay?" Chance asked, squinting his eyes at her, holding back the canopy as he entered, then stood eyeing her. His hair was wet making him look boyish and his shirt was damp.

"Yes, I'm fine," She rubbed her hand up and down her arms. "It's just not the Ritz." She smiled reassuringly. "Chance, I was serious, is it really necessary to go down into the cave or whatever the hell it is?"

Chance stood silent for a few moments, then walked up to her and sat down beside her. "It's always best to have a plan B in case things don't go as planned - which they almost always never do." He tried his best to explain.

She had always expressed concern, but this seemed different.

She smiled softly, knowing he was right and that he was already determined to do it.

Would she ever get used to him constantly being in danger? Nope, especially if she allowed herself to care for him.

The flickering light was casting soft shadows on her face. She looked so inviting.

Don't even go there.

He had a big job to do and he didn't know what to expect. He'd never used an archaeology cover before, never mind doing an actual excavation.

But there's got to be a first time for everything, right? Especially in this line of business.

"I'm right across the tent if you need anything, Good night Ilsa," he hesitated to leave her, lingered a little longer, then got up and started walking towards his cot.

Ilsa sat quietly watching him, his back was to her as he reached down to his bag that was next to his cot and pulled out a dry t-shirt. He removed his wet one and hung it on a lawn chair to dry. Ilsa studied his muscular back and sadly observed his many scars and wounds. Some old, others quite recent. _How many more are you going to add to your collection on this mission_, she wondered silently.

"Good night Chance," Ilsa snuggled down under her blankets and Chance blew out the lantern.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target or it's character and intend no infringements!

**_If it wasn't for the amazing help and support of NIAGARAWEASEL and CEDRICSOWNER I likely would not have continued this story. _**

Chapter Four:

Dawn was barely breaking but the heat was already intense, even by rainforest standards. There was absolutely no wind, not even the faintest breeze to provide relief to the small crew that now gathered around the excavation site.

The group was quiet and serious. No one actually said it, but they were all a bit worried about Chance; more so then usual.

Then entered a cave at the side of a mountain. For thousands of years it had been completely hidden from human eyes, now it was marked, roped off, and mapped out. After the initial discovery of the two idols the Fitzpatrick brothers had set up the main chamber as a type of gathering place, headquarters if you will for their work in the mountain, and they would again use it for this purpose.

There was one large chamber and two smaller ones lay beyond. It was gloomy and dark and what natural light there was caused ghostly figures to dance on the carved walls.

"Ewwwww...seriously, it stinks in here, smells like….old." Ames broke the sombre silence. "Why bother with this third Idol anyway? They have two, why can't they be happy with that?" She put her hands on her hips and turned in a circle to take in the dreary cave.

Winston turned to her with an impatient scowl and was about to reprimand her for not listening before when it was explained but decided against it.

John gladly took it upon himself to explain it for her again. He enjoyed his role as 'the brains'. "They are not simply just idols. There is a great ominous legend surrounding them." John explained while everyone else turned away. They all had been listening when it was explained the first time.

Except Chance, he studied John thoughtfully as he spoke, there was something mystical about the story that intrigued him.

"It dates back to a civilization thousands of years ago." John continued. "It was believed that whoever possessed the three idols together would experience unimaginable power! Riches! Glory! Success! When the three are together the spirits and gods are happy, enriching whoever possesses them with all the power they can imagine. When the idols are separated from each other the spirits and gods are angry and bestow curses, plagues and doom. Obviously, Castillo's boss believes in this legend.

Ames and Ilsa shuddered, The story definitely sounded creepy! And the dark and spooky surroundings didn't help. The disturbing carvings on the walls were oozing with proof of an immoral and sinister past society.

"Alright, lets get started" Chance spread the map out on the table that was already there from the brother's previous work.

Guerrero eyed the place and walked up to Chance, "Don't know bro. We have never seen anything like this before." The two men looked at each other with an understanding only they could completely grasp. They'd seen some crazy stuff, but this…

Winston joined them and leaned into Chance. "I don't suppose I could talk you out of this." He mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Chance just gave Winston one of his looks and both men moved on.

John began to explain where they believed the other chambers were located, east and north, beyond the other smaller rooms, they had recorded them on the map. The caves and passages only went in those directions. South was the entrance, and west, well that was a dead end, only a few feet through the rock to the outside of the mountain. John assured them there was nothing to dig that way.

John continued to ramble on about the maps, the layout and the impossibilities of getting through the other chambers and that what they could reach without getting killed had already been emptied and cleared out.

Chance looked up from the map and studied a quiet Ilsa.

He stared at her intently, and began to walk towards her. She wrinkled her forehead and shook her head slowly in confusion. _What was he doing_?

John stopped in mid-sentence and they all looked at Chance with stupefied looks.

He stopped right in front of her, never taking his eyes from hers. His closeness was making her feel uncomfortable, especially with everyone watching. She stirred and shifted in front of him.

He reach up and took a small black curl of her hair that was softly, ever so slightly, fluttering in the breeze and wrapped it around his finger keeping his intense gaze.

_fluttering in the breeze?_ There was no breeze, the air was as dead as the ancient civilization that dug this hell hole.

"Feel that?" The corner of Chance's mouth tugged up into a curious smile.

"Feel what?" Ilsa smiled nervously as Chance still fondled her hair.

"It's coming from over there," Winston stomped and pointed towards the wall John had so confidently assured them was a dead end.

"Your hair; it's moving," Chance explained. Letting go he went over to the dismissed wall leaving Ilsa baffled.

He smoothed his hands up and down the wall, his ear followed his hands. He knew the breeze was there somewhere, but where?

Finally he stood back and stared at the wall. "Guerrero, I need your lighter." He commanded, not taking his eyes off the wall.

Within second Guerrero had produced a lighter and gave it to Chance.

Everyone huddled together silently watching Chance as he slowly moved the flame up and down the west wall, along the ground.

The flame blew out.

Chance stood there a few seconds before turning to the group and grinned cheek to cheek

"The breeze is coming from here." He pointed to a small, barely noticeable crack that ran along the wall down to the ground. It would easily have been mistaken as part of the ancient carvings. He met the eyes of his confused onlookers. "It's not coming from outside. There is no breeze today and this breeze feel cool and smells stale."

"You will just end up digging to the outside of the mountain." John shook his head with doubt. "It is pointless, there can't be any more chambers or tunnels."

"We need to go down, the breeze is coming up." Chance confidently walked up to Guerrero. "What kind of goodies you got in that tool box?" Chance asked.

"Good stuff, Dude, you want a small explosion? I can have that ready in a few." Guerrero began to unlock his trusty box. Chance patted him on the shoulder.

**20 minutes later**

_Boom!_

When the smoke and dust cleared what appeared to be a new chamber was revealed, going down just as Chance suspected.

Chance and John began to clear away the rock, rubble and plaster . It revealed several steps that dipped gently towards a sealed trap door. They had definitely founds some underground structure.

Chance looked back at his group his eyes sparkled. "Guerrero, pass me the pickaxe." He grabbed it from Guerrero and started to descend down the carved bedrock steps.

Winston, Guerrero, and John shortly followed and the girls hesitated behind them, slowly and cautiously.

With each step it got darker and cooler. The breeze was getting stronger. Winston and Guerrero turned on their flash lights to help guide the way.

Chance was about to get busy digging at the seal when John grabbed his arm before it came down.

Chance stopped in mid-swing and gave John a perplexed look. "What? Did you want to do it?"

"I can't let you do this. You can't just casually smash an ancient seal. The civilization that built this went to great lengths to make sure it was never disturbed." John protested with passion. "It is utterly disrespectful to just come along like some barbarian and destroy it." He removed the pickaxe from Chance's hand.

"Seriously, dude." Guerrero pushed towards John. "Not the time." He tried to remove the pickaxe from John's hand. John pulled back, he wasn't about to let go.

Chance stepped in and steered John away from Guerrero and the others. "John," he continued in a calm compassionate tone. "We talked about this. You know this is how it has to be. This case is time sensitive." John was shaking his head. He was torn between saving his brother and his committment to archaeology and the preservation of it.

"You have to let this one go." Chance continued. "After we get your brother back you both can come here and try to make this right." Chance reassuringly shook his shoulder and waited for him to meet his gaze. "John, you with me?"

John hesitated and finally shook his head in agreement.

"Great!" Chance slapped him in the back. "Let get started." Chance took the pickaxe from him and walked back to the door.

Chance swung that axe above his head.

Before it made contact with the door a bright light flashed causing Chance to again stop in mid-swing and looked back.

John stood holding a camera. He bashfully shrugged and tried to pull off an innocent smile. At least he got a picture of the door before the seal was broke.

Chance held back a smile and turned and started swinging. The pickaxe made contact with the bedrock, again and again. The clang echoed up the primitive stairwell.

Every few minutes Chance would stop to try the door to see if would budge.

Finally he was rewarded. "John, get over here and help me lift this door!" Chance roared.

The two men tugged and grunted as they pulled the large stone trap door up.

A rush of old stale air released with a hiss.

They let the door fall to the ground with a loud thump.

Chance and John got down on their bellies and tried to peer in.

The dust choked the air and Chance and John coughed as they waved their hands in an attempt to clear their vision.

The others looked on anxiously.

"It looks like the ground is moving..." John observed.

Chance reached out behind without looking back, Winston placed a flash light in his hand.

Chance shone the light through the opening of the big hole. The dust began to settle and clear.

He slowly rolled over onto his back and stared at the carved ceiling.

"Spiders." He sighed quietly, "Why'd it have to be Spiders?"

"Banana Spiders." John shook his shoulder, "Very dangerous….you go first."

**_Thanks Cedricsowner for on helping to make John more authentic and **_Niagaraweasel_** _****_for the flame idea...not to mentional all the other things you both helped with!_**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Back up in the main chamber the air was still sticky and humidity felt like a wall compared to the cool air down in the tunnel that had been untouched for centuries.

"We can't just jump down in there with all those spiders, we'll be dead before you reach the bottom." John reasoned. His brothers future just got a whole lot grimmer. "There must be thousands and thousands of them."

Chance narrowed his eyes at John, sarcasm oozing from them "Sure glad you're here to tell us these things." Then he pointed his finger at John and then to the ground. "You're staying here." Then to Winston and Guerrero, "He stays." He eyed his two friends making sure everyone one was well aware of the plan.

Chance had already made it abundantly clear that John was to remain up top with Winston and Guerrero. He would go down alone. One brother was enough to save.

Besides, Chance didn't need anything holding him back. Watching out for himself would be easier if he didn't need to worry about anyone else.

John did not argue, he never said a word, that was more then just fine with him.

But now what, they needed to come up with a plan. The men just stood there, saying nothing else.

The silent contemplation was broken by a obviously distressed Ilsa. "What the hell are we going to do now!" Ilsa mindlessly mumbling to herself as she paced around the chamber.

Chance glanced at her but kept his distance. He had no idea how to make her feel better about this one. How could he convince her it would be alright? He was going down there regardless, they both knew it, and any attempt to comfort her with words would sound empty and void.

Besides, he wasn't big on words and he was also about to face his phobia head on. Would he be able to ignore it the way he could ignore pain, both physical and emotional? Despite his resolve her shuddered at the thought of the disgusting crawling creatures.

Guerrero stepped in front of Ilsa as she made another pass, forcing her to stop. "You got a _big _Can of Raid?" He smirked and went over to a pondering Chance leaving Ilsa stunned, but now quiet.

"Dude, I can mix up a pretty mean Molotov cocktail.**"** He raised his eyebrows with pride. "It won't get rid of them completely but should buy you enough time to get to…..well….where ever the hell it is you need to get to."

Chance slowly began to smile. "Works for me."

* * *

><p>A few minutes later the smoke cleared and all three men peer down in the dark opening.<p>

Small fires burn all around the cave providing a touch of light.

Ames tried to get as close as she could without annoying the men, standing on her tip toes, moving her head side to side in an attempt to get a peek. Guerrero gave her a threatening glare to move back. If she knocked one of them down there he'd make sure she went with them.

Ilsa stood back up a few stairs, she was leaning against the wall with her arms folded. _How could he do this….go down there_? She thought he was over his death wish. Did her opinion and concerns mean nothing to him, he wouldn't even look at her. She couldn't decipher if the bubbling emotions in her were that of worry or now just plain anger.

"Ok, dude, like I said, not much time." Guerrero urged Chance along.

Without saying a word Chance began to position himself on the ropes they had set up to lower him down. Winston and Guerrero had secured the ropes around themselves to hold Chance.

Chance winced as he began to pass through the weathered opening. A few spiders still scampered around the entrance. Guerrero, emotionless, smashed them with his foot.

When Chance was about waist deep through the hole John stepped forward.

"There is something else I think I should mention."

Chance immediately stopped himself from swaying, "Yah, what would that be?"

John hesitated. "Um, remember those extremely deadly traps I told you about…." He turned his eyes away.

"A-ha?" Winston grunted out of the corner of his mouth, the frustration obvious in his tone as he and Guerrero struggled to hold Chance.

"Well. I strongly suspect the traps get more elaborate with each idol. The first was relatively easy to find, the second harder and more dangerous. This final one…..well lets just say the makers of this chamber are going to be pulling out all the stops to prevent this one from being found." John eyed his surroundings sounding almost impressed. "I warned you this would be deadly."

He was holding something else back.

"John." Chance pressed, a little exasperated. "I'm dangling above an ancient cave that is more then likely to be jam-packed with fatal traps, not to mention hordes of hostile spiders. Now would be a good time to share with me anything else you think I should know before I go down there.

John hesitated, undecided if he should share this with them. Did Chance have the right to know everything before he went down there. Did this really matter? He began almost apologetically. "This isn't just some ancient cave dug by some passionate people." John stared right at Chance now. "I am absolutely positive you've found their _temple_. We knew it was around here somewhere but had pretty much given up looking for it."

"Dude, get to the 'so' part," Guerrero snarled, he was getting exhausted from having to hold on to the rope in the stifling heat.

"So," John continued. "The local people speak of a deadly curse that is linked to the Temple and the retrieval of the third most important idol, especially since the other two have already been removed." John stopped and watched the non reaction from the men. "It means certain death by unimaginable pain to whoever dares to cross the mouth of the Temple and tries to remove it."

John voice was raised and he was becoming excited.

"Oh, is that all." Guerrero shrugged and adjusted his footing.

Ilsa pushed herself off the wall, sheer terror on her tired face. She glared at Chance with big open eyes. He still wouldn't return her gaze. She turned and stormed up the steps, that's it, she had enough. Ames, being torn between staying to watch, this was getting good, and going after Ilsa finally pulled herself away and chased after her.

Chanced was well aware Ilsa had left but just rolled his eyes at John's revelation, "See you on the other side." And he began to lower himself down as Guerrero and Winston steadied the rope.

* * *

><p>Twenty meters down Chance's feet reached the bottom of the chamber. The ground felt uneven and full of debris. The air was a mixture of centuries of trapped odors and fragments of Guerrero's cocktail.<p>

The small fires from the bomb dimly illuminated the chamber causing the shadows of the few remaining spiders to be grossly exaggerated on the walls. But they were keeping to themselves. It was obvious they didn't like the smell of the fire bomb and the small fires. But they would return. Chance didn't have the luxury of time.

He removed the flash light from his tool belt. He shown the light around the walls.

"Chance, can you read me?" Winston voiced questioned via ear piece.

"Yep, for now." Chance's eyes followed his light as it scanned the walls, the newly disturbed dust floating in the beam.

The chamber walls were covered with hieroglyphics and carvings. Chance was no expert on either, but it was a pretty safe bet the ten headed, multi-fanged, fire breathing beasts etched into the walls were meant to be a warning for intruders.

Chance's light settled on a passageway. Chance moved forward, slowly, listening to the echo of his footsteps.

"What do you see?" John asked. His professional side was killing him for not being down there.

"A passageway. It seems to twist and turn. It's bored deeper into the mountain." There were ledges carved in the walls that contained artifacts. Some coins, medallions, tools and pottery. Chance sifted through them added a few items to his bag that crossed over his chest.

He started to move more quickly now, then stopped dead in his tracks. His heart pounding. He stood frozen, barely breathing. A huge banana spider was crawling up Chance's back. He could feel is legs through his shirt as it inched it way toward his neck. Chance willed himself to stay calm.

He waited for what seemed like forever until the appalling beast paused on his shoulder. Then in one smooth motion Chance swept the spider from him with the flashlight. It scurried away under a crack in the wall.

Chance let out a big sigh. He had a bad feeling this was just the beginning of many dangers that lay ahead.

_**Once again I would like to thank Cedricsowner and Niagaraweasel for their help. Their ideas, suggestions for improvements and time is appreciated more then words can express.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no infringements.**

_**A/N Sorry this next chapter took so long. My laptop's hard drive fried and it had to be sent away to be replace. Hope it was worth the wait.**_

**As always much love and thanks to Cedricsowner and Niagaraweasel for all their help, encouragement, and great ideas!**

**Chapter Six**

_Get your head in the game, focus_. Directing his attention back to the passageway he move forward but he was again stopped, blocked this time. Chance looked up, way up. The beam of his flashlight finally settled on an awe-inspiring figure.

Right in the middle of the path, carved out of stone and….could that be gold, was a big gruesome statue, consisting mostly of a face, not human, not even animal. It reminded Chance of a demon right out of some sinister nightmare. Horns protruding out its head, slits for eyes that seemed to burn holes in Chance. Fangs coming from the mouth, eight arms. It had an expression that was enigmatic.

But what was more disturbing than the stone face was the eerie silence. He'd never been anywhere so void of noise.

As Chance stood there as he experienced a feeling of veneration. It was without question a work of art. There was definitely an ominous and foreboding feeling to the statue. What kind of beliefs and religion did this civilization have to be inspired to create such a frightful, disturbing piece of work?

To Chance it was obvious this statue was erected as one last warning, one last chance, turn back, do not continue.

He ran his hand over the gruesome face, tearing away the cobwebs that had elaborately wound themselves around it. Cautiously he checked for anything that might trigger some kind of killing device. There seemed to be nothing.

That was what worried him.

He moved with instinctive caution. The same caution that was responsible for all his successful missions.

_Get inside their minds_. This theory never failed him. He would use it again.

Sure, in this case he was dealing with a sinister ancient society and not a modern-day trained assassin, but how different could they be. Right? The theory was the same; _Think like they would. What would they do?_

Chances concentrated. His mind was busy turning, working, trying to get inside the heads of the people that built this temple so long ago. They would want to protect their treasures. They would, like John suspected, erect barricades, booby traps, death pits to make sure no intruder ever reached the heart of the temple.

_What would you do if you were them? _echoed in Chance's mind.

Chance heard a low creaking sound breaking the eerie silence. His eyes shot to the ground. Of course.

_Jump!_

The ground around his feet vanished.

Every single muscle in his body worked together to lunge forward. How far did he need to jump to reach solid ground, anything, a vine, a wall, another statue, something to grab onto? He could feel the air swish around him.

He was dropping, hoping he would land on solid ground. He wasn't, the nothingness below was swallowing him up.

He reached his hands up looking for something to grip. He felt his fingers dig into the edge of the pit. It was lined with several protruding spikes that cut his hands but they also helped him get his grip.

Chance struggled, tried to drag himself up. The edge was crumbling around his fingers and loose stones, along with some of the spikes gave way and dropped to the abyss below along with his flashlight.

Even in his state of distress Chance was well aware there was no sound, no thud, no echo. How deep was this thing?

He could feel the darkness below closing in around him, smell the dank, damp air.

He strained and groaned, tried digging his feet into the side of the wall, thrashing with all his strength.

He wouldn't give up, he hauled himself up, slowly, every muscle straining until he thought they might actually pop. Sweat was blinding him. He forced himself to ignore the pain of the spikes dragging across his body as they cut through his shirt, then down his chest and stomach. He was becoming tired, his body screamed with agony but he had no intention of finding out what was on the bottom of this abyss.

Finally he was up far enough to swing a leg up onto the edge. With one last laborious haul he dragged the rest of his body up to safety. He sat quietly for a few seconds.

"Chance? Chance?" He could ear Winston bellow.

Chance didn't reply right away. He took a few deep breaths, wiped the dust from his pants. "Ya?" he finally answered.

"What was all the crumbling and grunting sounds?"

"A trap. I lost my flashlight and trust me, I can't come back for another. I'm going to have to come up with something else." Chance explained as he studied the rips in his shirt and the lacerations across his chest and stomach.

Winston, Guerrero, and John all looked at each other puzzled. He couldn't come back? What the hell had happened?

Chance finally dragged his body off the ground. He stood there looking around, it was going to be pitch black soon. The small fires from Guerrero's bomb were almost out. He had to think fast.

The builders of this trap infested pit would have needed light. He began rummaging through the artifacts he had earlier placed in his bag.

He pulled out what looked like an ancient torch, with some rusted metal wrapped around it.

He searched his bag, which Guerrero had taken the liberty of stocking; another Molotov cocktail,_ good thinking Guerrero_, Chance smiled, _definitely might need that if the spiders return. _Duct tape, a lighter, various knives, a can of raid….Chance chuckled. He continued searching the bag, seriously? Is that…? That would work perfectly. He removed some of the shaved silvery white pieces from the carrying case and placed them into the torch. He then grabbed the lighter and after a few attempts the torch lit up.

He could see now, the light was white and bright, but the moving flame only added to the eerie silent feeling in the cave. And the carvings in the walls looked even more gruesome and threatening. "I found some light," he casually informed his attentive listeners. "I'm going to keep going."

Back up top the men glanced at each other nervously. This was getting worse, they wanted Chance to turn back. But suggesting that his plan to go forward wasn't one of his better ideas was pointless.

Chance looked down at his wounds again, his shirt was stained with blood and what wasn't stained was ripped, exposing the fresh deep cuts. He would have to cover them.

He pushed the end of the torch into the sandy, crumbled ground and removed his shirt awkwardly. Then he again rummaged through his bag of supplies looking for something to cover the wounds. He found some cloth and removed it from the bag and started to wrap it around his chest and stomach area. Then he put his ripped shirt back on.

He picked his torch back up.

There it was again, nothing. He had never experienced such silence.

Chance knew he could only move forward. But he was also keenly aware that each step he took brought him closer to the next danger.

He could see it now. Just up ahead of him was the entrance of the temple. Even from this distance he could tell it was magnificently constructed.

He felt a rush as his blood boiled with excitement. He resisted the overpowering urge to rush forward. He studied the walls, they looked different. He moved carefully closer. The floor looked different too. He crouched down, examined the ground. He took the unlit end of the torch and banged it on the ground. Nothing happened. It seemed solid.

_They aren't going to have the floor give away again. _

Once again he went went back to his bag, removing another artifact he had earlier picked up. This one looked to be some kind of goblet. His intentions had been, initially, to bring them back for John but as the adventure progressed he found the need to use some of them to get himself through this hell hole.

He tossed the goblet ahead of him, it landed with a thud and rolled a little. For a moment nothing happened. Then the silence was broken by a whirling noise that made Chance jump back. Darts screamed through the air, hundred of them, flying out of their honeycomb hiding spots in the strange walls, triggered by the goblet flying through the air.

Although Chance had managed to avoid being impaled by the hundreds of primitive darts one still managed to fly off course and hit him. It imbedded itself into his thigh, extremely close to the same spot Baptiste had stabbed him with a knife a year or so ago.

That really hurt, his pants were stained with his blood. This spot was already susceptible and tender. Wincing, he pulled the dart out just as he had done the knife. He got out yet another cloth and wrapped it around his leg tightly. He tried putting weight on his foot. The wound was definitely going to slow him down some.

Then he took a moment to smile to himself, how could you not appreciate the labours that went into the elaborate designs of these traps and this temple.

As he moved forward through the now deactivated trap he could see skeletons of many past explorers that had attempted, overzealously, to get to the mouth of the temple. All taken down, not by one, but by several darts impaling various body parts. The bodies lay in slumped piles, all in various stages of decomposition. Chance looked at them with pity, especially the anxious fellow that got an arrow right through the eye. The leg was definitely better.

He'd made it to the temples entrance. At the far end of the temple he saw it. There it sat on some kind of momentous alter. It was fierce, ugly, yet beautiful at the same time.

Chance had a strange feeling he couldn't define, pleasure mixed with wrongdoing. He shouldn't be there disturbing their dead, their rituals, their rites. He was also beginning to understanding where the passion John felt came from.

The room was simply stunning and fear-inspiriting at the same time. The floor was beautifully carved with square tiles. Some showed the images of snakes the others of, yep, spiders.

There had to be something. There was no way they were just going to let someone waltz in there and take the idol, Chance pondered. They would most definitely have saved the best for last and Chance gave a heavy sigh knowing he probably hadn't even reached the "last".

Chance continued to study his surroundings, trying his best not to move suddenly in any direction. Then he noticed something, ever so faintly, barely noticeable to the naked eye. A contrast to the darkness about five feet past the entrance to the of the chamber. Could crossing that faint light trigger another trap? He wasn't about to just march over there and find out.

He needed something, something long. And he knew just the thing. Or rather, he knew where to get it. He marched back to the poor, decayed skeleton that had taken the dart in the eye. Chance studied him for a while, hands on his hips. Then he shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry pal." He reached down and grabbed a hold of his leg, twisting and yanking until it finally came free. "You don't need this anymore." Giving it a quick salute he turned away but something caught his eye that made him stop. What was that lying near the skeletons? It was partially covered in years of dust and rubble. Chance kicked at it and it became exposed. A bull whip. He reached down and slowly picked it up to study it. He looked back at the skeleton pondering a little longer. Could it be? He studied the chap._ No, can't be. He's missing the hat._

Then he was off.

Back at the entrance he now carefully leaned forward, holding out the bony extension, trying to reach to the contrast. Yep, he was right, it was casting a faint shadow. This just had to be some kind of trigger mechanism. He waved the leg up and down.

There it was, a whizzing, rumbling sound. The floor began to move and shake. Within seconds large saw-like blades, several of them, appeared through the floor, zig-zagging back and forth following the grooves of the tiles. Chance studied this for a while and soon discerned the timing of the blades. It'd be difficult to cross, but not impossible. But one split second hesitation or delay would mean immediate loss of a body part. And Chance was pretty attached to all of his.

Adding to this already difficult task was going to be trying to accomplish this with a bummed leg. He wasn't exactly moving smoothly right now.

But he felt confident he could do it and he had an idea. He flashed back to a job.

"Guys, remember that job we did in Shangri la?" He continued to watch the saws go back and forth in opposite directions of each other.

"You mean when we had to bury you alive?" Winston questioned fearfully. "I don't think…."

"No, no, the other thing." Chance interrupted. "You know, when I had to dodge those swords in that moving maze."

"It wasn't just a timing or speed thing but there was a sequence on the floor. Follow the code or sequence and it upped your odds of success." Guerrero reminisced with great admiration. "That was cool." He slowly nodded his head.

"What have you got, bro?" Guerrero now asked.

"I've got carved tiles, some with snakes and the other with…spiders." Chance choked out the final word. "I'm positive they are a puzzle to help safely manoeuvre through. Read the puzzle wrong and you're done.

"But in Shangri la it was dragons and suns and fire." Winston's voice was getting loud. "And we had a computer to look up meanings to give us a best possible chance of choosing the correct code."

"What do we know about this civilization and their love for snakes and spiders?" Guerrero questioned John. He was increasing uncomfortable without his electronics to help him out. Damn dead zone.

"Well we know they have great symbolic meaning." John started.

Guerrero mumbled sarcastically. "Obviously."

"Which are good, evil, omens, you know….bad stuff. Good stuff." Winston took over, pressing hard.

"One of the temples we dug up recently around here was build to worship a spider god." John started. "We discovered spiders are an ancient symbol of mystery, power and growth. These ancient people thought the webs the spiders weaved were similar to the way they needed to weave their lives."

Down in the chamber Chance groaned.

"To them the spider was a symbol to serve as a reminder that the choices they make daily construct and alter their lives. When a spider appeared it was a message to be conscious of the decisions they make during their everyday lives." John looked from Guerrero to Winston. "It could be considered a chance for a new beginning, chance to fix a bad decision, fix wronged pasts. Powerful stuff."

_Sounds familiar_, Guerrero and Winston couldn't help but glance at each other. They were both thinking the same thing. New beginnings, fixed bad decision, wronged pasts….why not just add redemption in there too and put Chance's name on the top.

Chance waved his hands impatiently. "The snakes? Did they like snakes?" Chance wasn't sure how he felt about this positive spin on spiders. Maybe the snake explanation would feel better.

John seemed hesitant. "Snakes are a really unique species. While they are considered in many countries and religions, especially Christian, as the symbol of death and evil. In other countries, like this one, they are often revered. Some even think of them as gods. The mythology of them is a timeless message of impermanence." He quoted from memory much of his readings on the subject.

Winston rolled his eyes, this didn't sound like it was going to be helpful at all. You could pull positive things from both explanations.

John noticed the frustration of the men and quickly added, "More specifically, the symbolic meaning of the a snake imagery deals with the human saga of conquering death…."

Guerrero cut him off. "Chance, step on the snake tiles, you'll conquer death, avoid the spiders."

John struggled to remember his findings and research. "…..Only to discover the only option is to _surrender_ to death." He looked up at the men.

"Stop Chance!" Guerrero yelled. "Scratch that." So much for cut and dry.

"What the….." Winston and Guerrero both began to bark at the same time, the pressure was affecting them and this was getting ridiculous.

For several minutes the men bantered back and forth while John provided more useless information. Chance was silent. Very silent.

He stood there contemplating what John had just told him.

_Spiders vs. Snakes._

He had to pick one. Which one meant life and which one meant death. It was a tricky riddle John had explained. Both could be bad or good. Of course his natural inclination was the snakes all the way. He didn't love snakes but if he had to pick one to be friends with he'd rather not choose spiders.

Back up in the modern world Guerrero and Winston continued their arguing. Each having a different opinion as to which species to go with.

"Um, guys?" Chance's loud voice got their attention. "I'm through." He had received a few scrapes up his back and hip and a slash to his face but all limbs were still intact.

Chance grinned to himself, man did he wish he could see their faces, if the immediate silence was any indication of what they looked like right now.

"How….?" Winston and Guerrero said at the same time to each other but meant it for Chance.

"I chose spiders." It almost seemed symbolic in itself.

Guerrero and Winston each broke into a smile and chuckled themselves.

"Once I reached the other side the saws just stopped." Chance added puzzled.

A few steps and Chance was finally face to face with what he had come for.

"I'm in front of the idol." Chance informed his group. His mouth went dry.

They all tensed up. This was it.

Chance studied the idol. He wondered how something like this could bring men to kill or be killed for. There was no denying its historical beauty as the gold glittered in the flame of his torch.

_What kind of traps have been saved for last?_

He knew there was something, he knew that as soon as he picked up the idol something would happen, he'd seen movies. He would just do it and deal with whatever came.

He grabbed the idol, which was heavy for its size, and dropped it into his bag.

For a long moment there was nothing. "Chance get the hell out of there." Winston yelled.

Then it started. It started far away, in the distance, a low rumbling sound. Almost like a machine or crank was turning. It was creaking and tearing. A large stone came down and blocked the only entrance of the temple with a thunderous echo. Dust stirred everywhere. Then silence again. Chance desperately shot his eyes around the small room.

Then another noise started, it was deafening, blocking his communication with the guys. The foundation felt like it was shaking, splitting, cracking? No, it was filling, sealing.

More boulders and rocks were falling down around the entrance and walls.

Chance ran over to them. Solid. No opening, no way out. And now no communication. He couldn't tell if it was because it was too loud or if the ear piece had stopped working.

It wasn't finished, now a grinding noise. _What the….._

Out of the base where the idol had rested a powerful jet of water began to spill over immediately beginning to fill the small chamber. The water was warm, almost hot? Hot springs! Steam was rising from the contrast of the cool damp air to the warm water.

Chance was getting desperate, the room was filling fast and there appeared to be no way out. He splashed through the water, now up to his knees, searching the walls for any kind of possible escape.

Solid. Even if he tried to blast his way out with Guerrero's Molotov he could just be blasting deeper into solid mountain. He had no way to tell which way might lead out. And he didn't have that kind of time to figure it out.

Chance was swimming now in order to keep his head above water and breathe. His torch was still burning thanks to the magnsium flakes; what a break that was having Guerrero put that in the bag.

He never stopped trying to push and dig vigorously but nothing would budge.

Inches to breathe.

Was this it? Was this how it ended? Chance recalled the hundreds of times he had been near death, never once had he ever imagined that this was how it ended, in a place like this.

Last breath, big one.

Chance was now completely submerged. He still searched frantically for an escape. He had no way of knowing if Guerrero and Winston knew what was happening, and now the ear piece had become completely dislodged by the surging water and aimlessly floated away.

But he had light, his torch was still burning thanks to the magnesium

He swam down to the floor and skimmed the surface, from behind the alter he noticed it; bubbles. Lots of them drifitng up toward the ceiling.

Yes, that could work if the bubbles were caused by methane. And he was pretty sure they were. He swam over to them. His lungs were beginning to burn. He had one shot at this. He'd better get it right.

As he floated above the bubbles he reached in his bag and removed more shaved, silver pieces of magnesium. Jammed more into the torch, causing the flame to roar, grabbed Guerrero's cocktail, said a little prayer that Guerrero stuffed some magnesium in that too, it could only help.

Then he swam down to the bubbles. The floor tiles had become dislodged from the shaking of the chamber. He pulled at the tile, a spider tile, and thousand of more bubbles escaped rippling past him.

He was getting weaker and his movements were slowing. He forced himself to stay focused then he jammed the torch and the Molotov cocktail into the soft wet mud now exposed where the tile had laid. The bubbles were floating up and around the flame. He needed to swim away and get some cover in case this worked.

He moved much slower then he would have like and the flame began to ignite the bubbles.

First it was just a few muffled pops and gurgles. Then a bang that easily shook the entire mountain.

Debris and rocks flew everywhere like bullets. Some hit Chance dead on causing cuts and bruises, others grazed his flesh. But he could move.

The explosion blew a hole in the side of the mountain large enough to immediately divert the water.

Chance followed the flow, his lungs about to burst. Once through the opening he was able to lift his head above water and take the life giving breath he so desperately needed. The water just kept coming and pushing him down along a winding tunnel, which was likely the source of the water that filled the chamber. It was a raging river with a strong current and Chance was mercifully flowing with it, he couldn't fight against it, especially with his wounded leg.

Chance was rushing down to unknowns ahead and he tried to slow himself, to grab onto protruding rocks, ledges. The force just pushed him on.

Up ahead he saw a turn, he needed to clear it but the water pushed him towards the sharp, rocky wall fast and hard. He had to swim with all his strength.

The pain of his many injuries shot through him as his body fought against the flow. He was willing himself not to black out. He hadn't gotten this far to splat on the rocks like a bug on a windshield. _Swim! _

The rock wall was getting closer and bigger. _Swim!_

At the last second Chance managed to clear the turn but not without scraping his shoulder against the jagged wall.

He allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. Then he beamed with joy. Light. There was light at the end of the tunnel. He now had a new appreciation for that expression. But why was it so loud? And getting louder as he drew closer to the light.

It sounded like thunder. Mist was rising from the light.

It had to be a cliff? Yes, the light at the end of the tunnels plummeted down a cliff. Chance knew it for sure but what he did not know was how far and to where.

Chance couldn't allow himself to go over that edge.

The speed at which he was approaching the opening made it impossible to swim against the flow.

Chance could make out the drop now at the opening. He could tell the fall was far down. He could also make out some greenery. Must be trees rooted into the mountain and the branches were hanging over. The down direction was just mist and spray. He needed to grab onto a rock or a crevice before his body was shot out of the opening like a cannon ball. If he could just grab something he might be able to hold on until he could figure out what to do.

He needed to get over to the side, he fought to move closer to the walls, dragged his hands along the wall, searching, grasping for anything big enough, strong enough hold. He just continued to slip. The rough walls were scraping at the skin on his palms.

The drop was just ahead. His nails ripped away as he dugs his fingers into the walls. Wait a minute, he struggled to reach something. It might just work.

Within moments he felt his lower body go over the edge with the powerful water surge. One last ditch effort, while in motion over the falls, he twisted his body around toward the mountain, took the bull whip in his hand and cracked it towards the branches dangling over the cave's opening and watched it coil around a branch. Chance felt his body violently yanked to a halt. It was holding him. It had worked. Chance was a little surprised himself

He held on with all his might. The force of the water was pushing against his face, almost drowning him, his body was dangling over the waterfall.

He struggled to pull his legs back towards the cliff. He managed to get his feet to touch the bottom. The surge was constantly pushing at his torso. He slid his foot along the bottom out to the side of the falls, feeling for some type of ridge or ledge to stand on. He could feel something, it wasn't big but with any luck he should be able to balance there. He already felt like he had swallowed an entire lake of water and couldn't last much longer in the present position.

Chance strained and pulled. He tried to get some kind of footing on the ledge. His foot kept slipping, he made several more attempts at it. With every slip the force almost caused him to let go of the whip.

Finally he gained enough footing to then let go of one hand and try to feel along the mountain side for something else to pull himself away from the falls. His hands found a small tree well rooted into the mountain and pulled himself over.

Chance hugged the side of the mountain. He looked down. Nothing but jagged rocks and crashing water. He would not have survived the fall. The water was not deep enough at the bottom.

Then Chance looked up, he was closer to the top of the mountain then the bottom. He couldn't hang there much longer, but he felt too weak to move. Which way would take the least amount of effort, he wondered.

It was now getting dark, damn he'd been in the mountain all day, and he needed to move on.

"Chance!"

Was he dreaming?

"Chance!" He heard it again. He looked up. At the top of the mountain he saw the welcoming faces of Winston and Guerrero.

"Are you ok?" they yelled down. "We are going to drop you a rope, hold tight."

They had heard the crashing water before Chance's ear piece flew out.

They put two and two together and knew the last trap was water. When they heard the explosion to follow, they had hoped it was Chance escaping. They had consulted a map to tell them where the closest source of water was, which was a river coming from a waterfall out the mountain.

Thanks to Ilsa Pucci's unlimited resources they had used the helicopter, the one they rented to get them into this area, to go to the top of the mountain.

Chance smiled, (it even hurt to smile) as sure as Guerrero and Winston had been that Chance would find his way out of that last trap, Chance had been sure they'd find him.

"Heads up, on the count of three..…..…three." Guerrero yelled as they threw the rope over the side of the mountain.

Chance saw it coming, but couldn't move before the heavy knotted end hit him on the head, his sore head.

"Hey, dude, you did get the idol….right?"

**Final notes: Coming up with traps for Chance was more difficult then I had initially thought but I had tons of help. So a specific thanks for Niagaraweasel for her idea on using darts for a trap. And Cedricsowner for the idea on how to get Chance out of the water trap. **

**Niagaraweasel, the bull whip part is for you. :)**

**Finally: I realize Chance has defied death probably unrealistically a few times here, however, he is Chance and this is a take on the Raiders movies. That was the point and the fun of it. Indiana Jones did a lot of impossible things as well... :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.**

**A/N _Thank you Niagaraweasel and Cedricsowner for their continued support, they always make themselves available when I need them._**

**This chapter is dedicated to _Niagaraweasel_! Not only did she help inspire me and give me ideas but she used so much of her own time to help me get the chapter ready to publish. **

Spiders vs Snakes

Chapter seven:

The day dragged on painfully slowly for Ilsa. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours like days. The longer it took for the men to return to the camp the greater the chances were that something had gone wrong. And the sun was now beginning to disappear behind the mountains.

Ilsa and Ames had spent the day in silence. When the two women had returned to camp it became clear, pretty quickly to Ames that it wasn't going to be "girl" bonding time. Ilsa wasn't in the mood for pleasant chatter.

Ilsa was extremely edgy and her sharp, sarcastic responses were so forward and obvious they made even Ames fall silent.

They had each parked themselves on a lawn chair close to the fire pit. Each engrossed in their own choice of reading material. Ilsa, a thick novel, Ames, a gossip magazine.

Now that dusk was approaching Ames timidly stood up and pushed her hands deep into her pockets. She looked at Ilsa with sad, concerned eyes, but said nothing. She knew why Ilsa was upset and concerned, she was too. But there was nothing they could do, it was out of their power. She knew Ilsa was smart enough to figure this out too which made Ames wonder if there was something else going on here.

Taking a big sigh, she busied herself trying to build a fire. She was starting to feel the drop in temperature and longed for some warmth. Besides, she had heard wild animals didn't like fire.

Ilsa had pulled her legs up onto her chair to help warm her, the now roaring fire gave little comfort. _Damn it_. How late was it? She was going insane on the inside. She hated not having any control over this. Where the hell were they?

Moments later the silence was broken by the sound of the helicopter coming. Ames beamed in delight. "They are back." She jumped up with such excitement her chair fell backwards.

Ilsa looked towards the sound but never said a word. She just slowly got up from her chair, dropped her book down onto it, grabbed one of the lit lanterns and emotionlessly walked into the tent.

Ames look back at her puzzled, wasn't she excited to see them? She'd been waiting for this moment all day to find out if Chance was ok, if he was still alive, if he got the idol. Humph, she shrugged it off and ran to the light and the noise not far off.

Ilsa threw herself onto her cot and began to sob like a baby. The emotions she had held in all day finally pushed themselves to the surface. She had wanted this moment, the moment when they would come back, so badly; but now that it was here she was terrified. She couldn't bear to go to the helicopter. What if Chance was…?

Within moments she heard laughter. Laughter? She sat up and wiped at her wet cheeks sniffing, trying to listen carefully, hopefully.

"I knew you could do it!" Ames squealed as she ran past John holding the idol and jumped into Chance's arms. Chance winced with pain, almost falling over.

Chance is alive! In her tent listening, Ilsa's hand flew to her mouth to prevent an excited scream from escaping. But now that she knew he was alive, the fearful emotion turned to anger. Anger he had put her through this.

"Ok Ames, thanks," Chance groaned and gently pulled her off. "It's been a pretty rough day."

Ames stood back and looked at him horrified. "Damn! Chance…." She step aside taking in his battered body as he slowly limped past her. "Nice bull whip." She looked at the men questioningly. They just shook their heads. A cue to let it go. They all knew to let it and him go.

Ilsa quickly realized Chance was coming to the tent and threw herself down on the cot, her back to the entrance, pretending to sleep, pretending she had not been anxiously, painfully waiting for his safe return.

It did not go unnoticed by Chance that Ilsa hadn't met them at the chopper. Why? Where was she? He never asked Ames, he didn't want to admit to himself he was disappointed to not see her. The painful ride back had been eased somewhat by the thought of seeing her.

He laboriously opened the tent and walked in. And there she was. Really? Was she asleep?

Chance allowed his bag to slide off his shoulder and thump on the ground! He felt annoyed at seeing her comfortable, relaxed state. He watched as she began to stir, roll over and sit up.

"Sorry," Chance shrugged limping toward his cot. "Didn't mean to wake you," he said with just a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone.

As soon as Ilsa noticed his beaten and battered state she immediately stopped with her pretence, jumped up and rushed towards him.

"My God Chance." She tried to reach for his face. "What on earth happened?"

A little miffed at her initial disinterest and lack of concern Chance turned his face away from her hand. "Nothing, why?"

"Because you look like you've been dragged backwards through thorn bushes." Ilsa let her hand fall to her side and gave him an annoyed look. "What is your problem?"

"Nothing, why?"

"for God's sake, stop acting like a child!" Ilsa snarled at him

An innocent _What did I say? w_as written all over Chance's face.

Ilsa's eyes now softened as they examined his dreadful state more closely.

Dear god, what the hell had happened down there? What kind of traps could have done this to him? Ilsa eyes scanned Chance's body.

"I'm fine." He refused to look at her and made a pathetic attempt to remove his shredded shirt.

"Let me help you with that." Ilsa again reached up and tried to help. It was actually killing her to see him like this. There had been some pretty rough assignments, but this one…..

Once again he pulled away, turning his back to her, refusing her help. "Ok, what exactly is your problem?" She was really getting mad now_. God, look at his back. He needs my help. _"What, you are mad at me? Why? Because I didn't run to see if you were ok?" She gestured outside to the direction of the helicopter. "For all I knew you could have been dead! You were the one that had to go down there! You were the one that wouldn't look at me!" She continued to scream at his back.

"You knew this mission was likely the most dangerous you've ever attempted and yet you still went. You never even said one word to me." Why was she yelling at him, he didn't need this right now, but she couldn't help herself, her emotions had gotten the best of her. "You didn't care what this might do to _me,_ how it would feel to sit here and wait and wonder and worry…"

Now he turned around, his head cocked a little, holding his bloody and torn shirt in his hand. His looked at her unbelievingly; stunned she was actually yelling at him.

She just kept going, she was almost getting hysterical. "You had no regard for what this might to do me, how this might affect me….."

"Ilsa!" He finally cut her off. He took a painful step towards her and gestured towards his beaten body. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but I'm pretty sore here. I really, _really_ don't need to be raked over the coals right now…." He put his hands up in a stopping gesture, some of the bandages wrapped around his hands were coming loose. "You'd be pretty hard pressed to find a spot on me that wasn't injured, so please, cut the crap, I really don't need this." He shook his head and looked away frustrated.

To Chance's utter surprise and shock Ilsa took her index finger and poked him as hard as she could in his collarbone.

He couldn't believe it. Did she just…he stared at her, his eyes wide, completely speechless.

"Found a spot, no blood there." She wrinkled her nose at him.

"What the hell was that?" He finally managed to ask. "Are you out of your mind?"

Now realizing what she had done Ilsa took a step back and nervously folded her arms in front of her. "Well," she tried to defend herself. "You said to try to find any place on you that wasn't…...hurt….I…that one spot…." She fiddled with her hair looking around the tent.

Chance intensified his stare and raised his eyebrows, waiting for some kind of reasonable explanation. He was making her feel uncomfortable. She really wished he would say something, anything. Just stop staring with those eyes, those piercing blue eyes. The contrast of dried red blood around them made the color even more intense, if that was possible.

"I'm sorry…." She blurted. It wasn't exactly an apology. Her pride was getting in the way.

He still wasn't saying anything. _Stop Staring at me like that_.

Finally he broke the silence and the stare, looking down and turning towards his bed, "I just want to sleep." He threw his shirt on the floor and attempted to slowly lower his body down on his cot.

Ilsa rushed to his side, tried to grab his arm, trying not to hurt him, wanting to help him sit down. "Wait a minute, Chance, you can't just go to sleep like that, and those wounds need to be cleaned properly." She sat next to him.

"By you? No thanks, I'd feel safer sleeping with piranhas." He painfully tried lifting his leg to remove his boot.

Ilsa compassionately watched his struggle. Reached forward to help but pulled back.

"Besides," he added. "Guerrero took care of anything that needed stitches on the ride here, I'm fine." He let out a groan.

Ilsa looked at his thigh where his pants had been ripped away to exposed his wound so stitches could be administered. By now her anger at worrying over him was quickly turning to sympathy and a desire to help.

"I'm going to fetch supplies." She jumped from the cot.

Chance cringed at her sudden movement, "Jeez…."

She stopped and turned back. "Sorry." She squeaked apologetically and disappeared out the tent.

Almost like she had said nothing about cleaning him up he continued to remove his other boot then his bloody pants, then almost in a dazed-like state he pulled his cover back and crawled under them.

"Ok Chance," Ilsa pulled back the tent flap with one hand, trying to balance a bowl of water, a bottle of iodine and enough bandagges to wrap a mummy. "We need to do this….." She stopped in mid-sentence as she noticed he was fast asleep, under the covers, his back to the tent entrance. A faint, exhausted snore was coming from him.

Ilsa let out a heavy sigh as she walked over to his cot and placed the supplies on his wobbly night stand.

She carefully sat beside him on the bed and closely studied his exposed back. She gently pulled the cover back a little more to see how bad the injuries were. She reached out and gently brushed his hair back from the dried blood on his face. He only mumbled a little.

"Chance," she leaned in and whispered in his ear. "We have to get these wounds cleaned."

Chance release a groan and tried to turn away from her even more.

She reached for the cloth that was soaking in the warm water and wrung it out. As gently as she could she dabbed the cloth on some cuts on the side of his face. He instinctively tried batting her hand away, as if she was a fly that was bugging him. She ignored his protest and tried once more. He swatted at the air again.

She wasn't about to give up. She then tried to wipe some blood from his shoulder. Was this his tattoo side? She thought so, but there was so much blood and so many scrapes it was hard to tell.

The pain caused Chance to shoot up to a sitting position, startled and disoriented. The movement knocked Ilsa off the small cot onto the ground.

It took him a few second to remember where he was and what happened. "Damn it, Ilsa." He reached down to help her off the ground. "Please, just let me sleep. That's all I want."

She took his hand and he ignored the obvious pain as he helped her off the ground. He noticed as she sat back beside him on the bed, she had a more tender look then when he had first come back.

He didn't move away as she shifted her body towards him. They gazed into each other eyes, the earlier disagreement forgotten.

"That's _all _you want?" Ilsa repeated his words gently taking his hand and starting to unwind the old gauze bandages wrapped around it.

He looked around the tent. "It's all I want, _right now_." He looked back at her. How did she manage to look so good and smell so nice in the jungle?

He realized that, yes, she always presented herself well put together, but she was also a natural beauty. He liked this look, this jungle, and camping, natural look. Her hair was messy, her face was bare of almost all traces of make-up, her clothes were comfortable and practical yet somehow to Chance she looked extremely sexy. Looking at her with easy for him, his eyes was about the only thing that didn't hurt.

The tent was softly lit by the lantern and they could see the shadows of the fire outside dancing on the tent walls.

"Chance, you need to get cleaned up." She gently pushed.

She wiped his hands and gentle re-wrapped them. "I hope you heal fast. You don't have much time to look presentable for stage three."

Chance pulled his hands away and was about to protest again.

"Please let me help you." Ilsa gently said. She staring pleadingly into his eyes.

She moved a little closer to him on the cot. He leaned back with one arm behind him on the cot for support.

Chance didn't move, as Ilsa delicately placed her fingers under his chin and gently turned his head from side to side, examining his scratches and cuts. He silently just studied her face. She leaned in closer and wiped his forehead, around his eyes, cheeks, ears, there seems to be blood everywhere. He narrowed his eyes in pain. Then she moved the cloth to his lips…

She now became very aware of his gaze. She met it and stopped wiping his lips. She then quickly pulled back from him and Chance looked off to the side.

Ilsa cleared her throat. "You have some pretty nasty cuts on your face." She tried to sound nonchalant.

Blood had begun to soak through the cloth around his ribs. "You need a new bandage and that needs to be cleaned." She nodded to his chest.

She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed two little pills and handed them to Chance. "Here maybe you should take these. Guerrero gave them to me to give you. They're for the pain."

Chance took them and threw them in his mouth and then accepted the cup of water from Ilsa to wash them down.

She then began to unwrap the old bandage around his chest and let it falls to the ground. She laid her eyes on his injured chest trying hard to conceal her reaction. The cuts were so long and deep that she was horrified. "Turn around, let me take care of you back first." She urged him.

Even a body as strong as his wasn't immune to this kind of slaughter.

She gently wiped away the blood on his back. Chance's body stiffened, it hurt and stung. She ran her hands gently over his strong, battered, shoulder blades for a while, then sat quietly studying his back. He had managed to add quite a few new scars to his collection. She sighed heavily.

Despite the pain from his injuries Chance enjoyed the soft, tender touch of Ilsa's hands on his body. He closed his eyes.

She turned him around to face her again. He opened his eyes. "Those cuts on your chest and stomach are pretty bad. They look like they might be getting infected." She drew attention to his chest and he looked down.

"Lay back on your pillow." Ilsa instructed him while she prepared something at the night stand. She then took some towels and laid them around him.

He cautiously watched her, one eyebrow raised. "What exactly are you planning on doing?" He asked a little concerned.

"Don't worry about it." She shot him a smile over her shoulder. "Relax," she turned to him. "This might sting a bit…..."

Chance looked at her sideways. He wasn't buying the "bit" part at all.

She leaned over him and dabbed at the first cut with an iodine-soaked cloth.

The excruciating pain caused him to jump up, Ilsa quickly moved with him, as a muffled yell escaped his lips. Chance was swaying as they stood facing each other and Ilsa looked down, realizing he was wearing only his briefs. It caught her a bit off guard and she nervously fumbled her words. "I'm,...sorry." She tried to steady him without touching any injuries, almost impossible. Even his collar-bone had a red mark on it now.

"Ilsa, please, that's enough." He took her wrist and with his other hand pulled the cloth from her hand and threw it on the table. He held her wrist for a few more seconds then let go and turned back to the bed, he glanced back at her and started to work his way back into bed under his covers. "I want to sleep."

Ilsa watched him return slowly to bed without saying a word.

She walked over to the cot and sat down next to his turned away body. She gently touched his shoulder. He rolled over with a big sigh and pressed his knuckles to his eyes.

"Alright," he agreed. He put his hands behind his head. He was now completely vulnerable for Ilsa.

"I promise as soon as you are fixed up I'll let you sleep." Then quickly added quietly, "and after you have some food."

Ilsa took the cloth from the warm water. She began to rub his chest around the wounds removing the blood. Her touch was gentle and soothing and Chance watched her mindfully almost enjoying the caress.

She then moved to his stomach. His muscles clenched at the touch of the cloth, a sensation mixed with pain and pleasure.

This was definitely better than Guerrero's rough hands that usually attended to his injuries. A small faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Ilsa smirked at him, "enjoying yourself?"

"This part's not so bad." He scooped his arm around her waist and easily slid her closer with a devious look in his eyes.

"Mr. Chance, what was in those pills Mr. Guerrero gave you?" He was definitely not feeling the pain as much.

He just continued to smirk, all handsome and...well ...sore. Ilsa was desperately trying to stay focused.

"We are going to need to apply some more iodine you know." She said apologetically.

Chance's smirk vanished. "Make it quick." He let go of her waist and turned away slightly.

The covers were not completely covering him as before and she could now see yet another injury. She pulled the cover down a little more and could see a piece of cloth haphazardly placed on his hip to stop the bleeding. It had almost gone unnoticed because of his breifs. "You seem to have failed to mention this injury." He looked back over his shoulder and followed her gaze to his hip. He gave a careless shrug and turned away again.

She gently pulled the side of his briefs down enough to remove the cloth. More stitches. Ilsa's eyes blinked in shock. She couldn't even imagine what could have possibly caused a cut like that on his hip.

With one hand she held him down and with the other she wiped the wound with iodine. His entire body clenched with pain, his stomach heaved. She tried to comfort him but didn't know where to touch him. When the stinging subsided she placed gauze on the cut and taped it up. She placed his briefs back and covered his lower body with the blanket.

She reached for his shoulder and gentle rolled him onto his back. They both said nothing as she finished apply the iodine to his chest and stomach. The entire time Chance bit down hard on his jaw. When she finally finished he let out a big sigh.

"Almost done," she said softly. "Can you sit up? I need to wrap clean gauze around you." She took his wrist and helped him up.

She leaned down toward his chest and began to wrap the gauze around his chest and stomach as he held his arms up. It took a lot to cover the injuries. When she was finished she slowly lifted her head and found her face inches from his. His arms calmly lowered, gently wrapping around her waist, holding her there.

Ilsa attempted a slight tug to pull away, his embrace didn't budge. Her heart pounded. Chance had this alluring look in his eyes. The room felt cozy from the lantern but now Ilsa felt almost flushed and hot.

Ilsa fought against her feelings. The only thing he needed was rest. They had a long way to go before this job was done and he had a lot ahead of him. Logic would need to prevail over this moment.

They were so close that when Ilsa finally turned her face away from him his lips slightly brushed her cheek.

Sensing her decision Chance's eyes glanced down, though they remained close.

"Um," Ilsa softly began. "I think you should try to eat something."

Chance embrace loosened and he looked off to the side. "Yeah, right." He said a little awkwardly.

"You were in the mountain all day. You need some food." Ilsa tried to sound logical. She slowly started to slide away from him until she was standing.

She stood over him watching him, he wouldn't look at her….again. "I'll be right back." And she gingerly left the tent.

Ilsa stood outside the tent a little while before moving, trying to regain her composure. She placed her hand on her chest and took a big sigh.

Back inside the tent Chance observed her unmoving shadow, he had gotten to her. He gave a little smile and laid his tired body down.

A few moments later Ilsa returned with some soup. She walked over to his night stand and placed the soup there. She stood silent and studied Chance. He was on his side, his back to her and he was fast asleep.

This time she didn't try to wake him. Her heart was bursting in a thousand directions. Today had probably taken ten years off her life worrying about him and then when she saw the horror of what had happened to him it had hit her like a ton of bricks.

The realization of almost losing him now made her shudder. It had been so close. She also had a new realization. A realization she wasn't sure she was ready to explore. Almost losing him helped her realize how much she was starting to care for him. And it terrified her.

She blew out the lantern. Now the only light source was the glow from the fire outside. She ever so gently lowered herself and crawled into the cot with Chance. She laid with her back to his, just barely touching. She needed to be close to him, to feel him. To know he was alive and that he was not going to vanish. She would sneak out in the morning before he awoke. He was out cold, he would never know.

Chance moaned and rolled over, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into him, without waking up. The way he held Ilsa, so close and caring made her wonder if maybe he had done this more often then she had thought. Maybe he had cared and had loved in his life contrary to what she had so harshly once accused him of.

She fell into a safe peaceful sleep.

Phase one was complete.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

_Thank you Niagaraweasel for all your help getting this chapter polsihed up and ready to publish. Thank you Cedricsowner for being a constant source of inspiration and support._

**Chapter Eight:**

_**Back at the Resort's Club, next day:**_

In the surveillance van, also doubling as a "catering service", Winston and Guerrero listened in intently to what was going down inside the resort between Chance and Castillo. Both in their own unique styles. Winston huddled over the screens, occasionally pushing buttons on the keyboard. Guerrero sat nearby, feet up, glancing at the screens between bites of the take out he had ordered from inside the resort. Phase three was not going smoothly. Yes they had expected that Castillo wasn't going to give them Gavin, but Chance getting poisoned had definitely not been part of the plan.

"Ames, are you dressed yet?" Winston yelled over his shoulder impatiently. "What the hell is taking so long?"

"What? These stockings are hard to pull up." She groaned as she pulled at them, wiggling and jumping, trying to fit into the stockings of a sexy outfit that would allow her to blend in with the serving girls inside the resort. "Besides," she smiled proudly. "Phase two went just fine. I got the two idols back and that guard is probably still waiting for me to join him in the closet." She put her hands on her hips boastfully waiting for the men to praise her.

"Don't flatter yourself." Guerrero pushed his glasses up on his nose, not even looking back.

She rolled her eyes, walked up behind the men and leaned over them to see the monitor. "Ready. What now?"

"We pull an Aunt Linda," Winston informed her not removing his eyes from the monitor, his hands busy typing something on the keyboard.

"You mean an Uncle Dan," Guerrero corrected him.

Winston's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, he stopped typing and turned to Guerrero. "Calling in the cavalry is an Aunt Linda," His voice was agitated and downright snarky. "Chance doesn't even know who Uncle Dan is."

Guerrero just faced forward with a knowing, playful grin.

"Whatever!" Ames butted in. Men could be so ridiculous.

The disagreement forgotten, Winston looked back at Ames. "You need to get this to Chance." He passed what looked like a silver flask over his shoulder for her. "We knew when he entered this club he'd be frisked and he was, so we came up with this instead."

Ames took it from him, hiked up her skirt and placed it in her garter belt. "Like taking candy from a baby."

"It should be pretty easy for you to get in..." Winston started with further instructions.

"I got it," she confidently cut him off. "Through the staff entrance, I know, I'll blend in like a chameleon." She slide open the van door and was gone.

Winston's mouth hung open. "Dude, close your mouth, there's lots of bugs down in these parts." Guerrero said as he shoveled another bit of food into his.

* * *

><p>The little glass vial with the antidote sat on the table, so close and yet so out of reach. Ilsa had a hard time keeping her eyes on anything else. Chance seemed oblivious to it.<p>

Castillo leaned forward in his chair as if to challenge Chance. He had a hard smile. "I must say Mr. Saunders, I'm actually quite impressed," Castillo rubbed his hands together. "I really was not sure if you had it in you to find that idol. You are after all just an archaeologist, right?" He eyed Chance suspiciously. "Over the centuries, not one man has ever come close to getting the idol and believe me they've tried. I can see you have some injuries, you must have faced many devices of the lethal kind. I truly am sorry to have put you through such an ordeal." He said insincerely as he sat back and folded his arms in front of his chest. He and his men shared a laugh.

"I don't think you realize how powerful a man I am Mr Saunders," he continued. He moved his hand slowly in front of him, palms up, directing attention to the stunning club. "All this belongs to me. I have the money and the power and with the addition of the final idol I'll have preordained fortune and prosperity on my side." Chance's eyes scanned the room. Yes it was impressive. The high ceilings were decorated with beautiful moldings and adorned with several extravagant chandeliers. Also suspended from the ceilings were grandiose pieces of cultural art. Flowing silk curtains draped from the ceiling to the floor. There were many private viewing balconies staggered at different levels up the walls facing the stage where one could watch the entertainment in a more private atmosphere. Each one carved with gorgeous, exotic designs. There were also the many outside balconies that overlooked the grounds where the clientele could catch some fresh air. The entire club was a carved, architectural masterpiece.

Chance sat extremely relaxed for a poisoned man. He was leaning back, his arm was hooked over the back of his chair, and his legs were crossed. He had a gleam in his eye and a cocky smile on his face. In his peripheral vision he could see the waitress returning with his cocktail.

Ilsa noticed her too and her mouth slightly dropped open, then she closed it and swallowed hard.

"You do realize you are in no position to make demands." Castillo was referring to Chance's earlier remark that if he were to die, Castillo could forget ever seeing the idol.

"Your life and Fitzpatrick's are dependent on this little vial. Without it you are a dead man in let's say...," he looked down at his watch, "...forty five minutes and your beautiful wife here... will be a busy woman." Castillo reached over, picked the glass vial off the table and placed it in his breast pocket. "You _will_ give me the idol!" He patted his pocket confidently.

The waitress put Chance's drink down on the table along with the remaining cocktail in the shaker. Chance thanked her without looking up. He just maintained his vigilant gaze at Castillo.

"You mean _idol_**_**s**."_** Chance made sure to stress the "s" on idols. The confused look on Castillo's face caused a full grin to break out on Chance's.

Ames's appearance as the waitress with his drink was the cue he had been waiting for and proof the Norma Jean had been successful. The game was on.

Castillo's eyes widened to twice their size; he began frantically snapping his fingers at his hired men, not removing his eyes from Chance, obviously a command to confirm the unbelievable words that Chance just disclosed.

Two men dashed off.

Ames circled the table, replenishing the gentlemen's drinks. When she was close to Castillo she stumbled and allowed the tray of drinks to tip spilling enough onto Castillo to make a scene.

"I'm so sorry," Ames squealed in Spanish, waving her hands in the air. Then she grabbed a napkin from the table and busily started patting his chest trying to soak up some of the spill. "I'm such a klutz."

"Get away from me," Castillo hissed waving his hands to dismiss her like she was unimportant. "We don't need any more drinks, just leave us!" He grabbed the napkin from her and finished the job himself never once looking at Ames.

With a slight smirk on her face she left but didn't go far. Ilsa watched her leave with big curious eyes while helping herself to the now unwanted drinks.

Chance continued to maintain eye contact with Castillo.

"Now that I'm in possession of all three idols maybe you'll reconsider handing over Fitzpatrick." Chance was starting to feel the effects of the poison. He was get getting increasingly warmer, his insides started to feel strange, a feeling much different from the pain he felt the night before. But his body language still appear valiant and in control.

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear about what will happen to this beautiful creature beside you if you die from the poison." Castillo was feeling a little desperate and tried to regain control of this meeting.

"If I'm dead you'll never find the idols." Chance's returned smugly.

"I'm sure after you are dead I can persuade Mrs. Saunders to be quite helpful with finding them." Castillo flared with anger as he stood up, scratching his chair on polished marble floor. His hired men all began to reach into their pockets.

Chance pushed Ilsa to the ground and catapulted into action, grabbed the cocktail shaker and smashed it on the table in front of Castillo. A smoke bomb instantly choked the air and all vision was impaired.

Ames hit the floor several tables away from where Ilsa lay. Their eyes met as the chaos erupted above them. Ames gave Ilsa an understanding nod and rolled something towards her. It aimlessly rolled painfully slowly toward Ilsa, completely unaware of the turmoil about it. An unknowing heel came down knocking it spinning across the dance floor. Ilsa politely cursed under her breath. She slithered on her belly as glass smashed, women screamed and gun fire overtook the sultry mood of the club. She was almost there, she reached out to grab it again, but just as her fingers were about to pull it in another heel kicked it scouting across the room towards one of the observation balconies. She rolled her eyes in frustration, _really?_ Off she slithered again.

Chance had his hands full and hadn't notice she had slithered away. He grabbed the nearest thug and used his body as a weapon crashing him into several blinded guards knocking them all to the ground. He frisked their bodies and had his choice of weapons. He picked a few.

In the confusion caused by the smoke bomb Winston and Guerrero easily burst through the main entrance. Both were armed with an automatic weapon and began firing into the air. Ames was able to use their cover fire to reach them safely.

Bullets were spraying everywhere. The club was starting to look like a tornado had passed through it. It was engulfed in screams and crashing, people were running everywhere, smoke choked the air, bullets flew in every direction, tables and chairs were overturned, bottles, glasses and artwork smashed to the ground.

Chance used the confusion and chaos to his advantage to fight against several thugs around him, he needed all the edge he could get since his body was still terribly sore. Thanks to more of Guerrero's amazing pain killers he could move, but now with the poison in his body he was beginning to feel a whole new type of pain.

Chance tried desperately to get to Castillo. But every time he got rid of one opponent, two more appeared. But one at a time he eliminated the men between him and Castillo with superior martial art manoeuvres.

Castillo sensing his men's failure decided he'd better make an escape and cowardly exited through his private entrance. He still had Fitzpatrick and that was all the leverage he needed.

Chance watched helplessly as he struggled with two men as Castillo disappeared into the smoke out a hidden exit.

Soon Chance had managed to eliminate the threat around him, but could see more goons trying to gain entrance, they were being temporarily stalled by Guerrero and Winston's fire. But it wouldn't last forever.

Where the hell was Ilsa, they needed to get over to Guerrero and Winston.

He finally noticed her, his eyes zoomed in, irritated she had wandered so far from him, so far from the protection of Winston and Guerrero's shield. How was he going to get them out of here now? Then he noticed her studying something in her hand. She'd got the antidote! Before he could react a fist came flying towards the side of his head and he instinctively blocked it and administered a knock out blow as he grinned inside, _good girl!_

She couldn't believe the vial was finally in her fingers. She studied it like it was the most precious diamond she'd ever laid her eyes on. She glanced around and quickly dropped it down the front of her dress. Her eyes widened at its cold touch.

Now that her little mission was accomplished she became aware of the insanity around her. She had thus far managed to block it out. Now fear was overtaking her. She was on the other side of the room from Chance and even farther from Winston and Guerrero. Chance had warned her to stay close. Then distracted..._oh look, someone forgot to finish their drink_, she reached her hand up to a table and grabbed the abandoned drink and gulped it down. _That should help take the edge off,_ she told herself.

Chance started racing across the room towards Ilsa. It was like running through an obstacles course. He dodged, ducked, and rolled. He slid across tables, jumped over knocked down chairs, used anything at his disposal for cover from the aimless bullets zooming around the room, all the while making mental calculations of his surroundings, planning his escape with Ilsa.

He finally reached Ilsa who was still sitting on her knees. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up, dragging her behind him up one of the private observation balcony's stairs. "Got the antidote?"

"Yes, I..." Bullets sprayed around them and they had to duck behind the stone railing.

Winston and Guerrero were being forced to back out as they tried to ward off the constant stream of attackers, they seemed to be coming out of the woodwork like cockroaches. The two of them would not be able to hold them off much longer.

"There is no way we are going to make it over to you." Chanced yelled via earpiece to Winston. "Get out now, there's too many of them! We'll catch up with you later."

"How? What the hell are you going to do?" Winston yelled over the spray of bullets from his gun.

"Just go! It'll be fine. We've got the antidote and I've got an idea." Chance yelled. He looked at Ilsa expecting her to look fearful but her face almost seemed complacent.

They were in a dead end balcony and now the gun men that had been focusing attention on Guerrero and Winston no longer had that to contend with they turned their attention back to Chance and Ilsa...and she seemed...unconcerned?

Ilsa was slowly starting to stand up again while more shots rang towards them. "Get down!" Chance pushed a stunned Ilsa down behind the stone banister and responded back to the shots with shots of his own. "Ilsa, bullets are flying, what the hell are you doing, pay attention!"

Chance now aimed his gun towards the ceiling at the cables that dangled a large piece of art made of metal, with Mayan symbols molded into it. First try he hit his target, second shot the other cable.

The heavy piece of art came crashing down embedding itself on the stair case Chance and Ilsa had just ran up. It crushed through the carved stone banister like it was made of sand. It would provide the temporary shield they needed for Chance to get them out of there.

"Now look what you did, you trapped us up here?" Ilsa said extremely calm and almost emotionless. Her actions appeared slow and deliberate. What, was she in shock or... "You sure know how to show a girl a good time," Ilsa mumbled as she unsteadily got to her feet and sauntered closer to Chance tapping his chest, "I'm not having fun at all." She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

Chance did a double take, narrowed his eyes. "How much did you drink...?"

He was cut off by the pinging sound of bullets hitting the metal piece of art pulling his attention back to their escape. He removed his suit jacket and ripped the lining of the inside back grabbing the only weapon he could bring undetected into the night club, the only weapon that wouldn't set of the metal detectors, that would go unnoticed with a quick frisk. The bull whip!

Chance jumped onto the thick stone banister and with precise accuracy he cracked the bull whip watching it coil perfectly around his intended target, the massive dangling chandelier.

He gave it a hard yank then turned to Ilsa, one hand on the bull whip the other beckoning her. "Come on!"

Ilsa plunked down on her knees evaluating Chance's command. Her finger pointed to the bull whip then to the chandelier in a questioning manner. "I think I'll sit this one out," she concluded with a dismissing nod.

"Ilsa, now," Chance was growing a little impatient!

"Mr. Chance, you seem to be under some delusion I'll follow you anywhere. Well I don't want to go." She sounded like a spoiled child. "And by the way, how are you managing to move at all when this morning you couldn't even put a shirt on by yourself?" She studied his body in a childlike wonder.

"What are you eight?" Chance reached down and grabbed her arm before she could protest. "Get up here unless you want to be another piece of beautiful architecture here!"

As Ilsa flung into his arms her lips formed a bemused smile, "Ah-ha, so you think I'm _beautiful_." She touched the tip of his nose with her finger and looked at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

_Yep, no question about it, she was drunk. _Chance took a deep breath and puffed his cheeks and let the air out. This could have actually been fun given different circumstances...

Then without saying another word he securely wrapped his free arm around her waist and she swung her arms around his neck.

When she looked over and saw the intended destination she began to protest. "You can't be serious..." Ilsa snorted a laugh. _Oh god, he was_.

Chance pushed them forward as they flew through the air toward one of the outdoor balconies. Her evening gown was flowing in the air as the crystals in the chandelier clinked and tinkled. She buried her face against Chance's neck she didn't want to see where they were going. She peaked out with one eye when she thought they were going to land, but they weren't stopping at the balcony, he was allowing the swing to take them over it, she began scrambling, trying in vain to turn back to solid ground. The scrambling had only managed to move her in front of him and now she was straddling his waist, her legs were wrapped around him frantically squeezing him. She was sobering up pretty quickly.

And now she could feel him let go, the forward momentum shifted to a downward one. She felt the laws of gravity kick in as she held on tight, allowing herself to trust him.

They fell, wrapped in each other's arms, four stories down to a pool. They crashed through the surface and went all the way down until their feet hit the bottom. Chance pushed off the floor of the pool to jet them to the surface. At least it was a heated pool.

There was no time for Ilsa to stop and complain. Chance was already dragging her out of the pool. They weren't home free yet.

The impact with the water again rendered the ear piece useless. Damn, second time this mission. _Got to stay away from water_, Chance made a mental note.

They were in the back of the resort, security gates all around them. They weren't going to make it to the surveillance van. Besides, Guerrero and Winston probably already had to make a get away.

Chance ran dragging Ilsa behind him, the long wet skirt of her dress slowing her. They ran through some brush and trees down a side of a mountain. They came to a gate nestled at the back of the resort. It wasn't locked, Chance opened it and cautiously walked through.

"Look at this, they've got themselves their own little army. " Chance and Ilsa tip-toed behind some vehicles as they watched half a dozen men in uniform laughing amongst themselves.

"This baby is going to have to do," Chance said opening the driver's side door of the nearest truck and pushing Ilsa through. "Those other vehicles are too close to those men." Chance bent over and got busy trying to hot wire it. Ilsa sat crouched down in her seat, never taking her eyes from the men.

Within seconds of Chance starting the vehicle they heard the footsteps and yelling of the men from the club in hot pursuit, informing the other talking men of the situation.

Chance flung the vehicle into drive and headed for a gated exit, almost running over the now scrambling men.

They smashed through the gate with ease.

In his side mirrors Chance could see their pursuers jump into the jeeps and charge after them. He mumbled a few curses under his breath.

This mission was really starting to piss him off!

How much more was his body going to have to go through?

"Ilsa, where the hell is the antidote?" Chance yelled as they began to recklessly tear down a winding mountain road in the military style truck; Chance desperate to keep control at the wheel…..


	9. Chapter 9

****Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target or Indiana Jones and intend no copyright infringement. ****

**_Okay, so, it's been a very long time since I added a chapter. Ilsa and Chance must be getting pretty cold in the river so I thought it was time to get them out. But since it's been so long here is a little recap: The story started, chapter one, in the present and ended with them landing in the river and Chance poisoned. Then I went back in time and related how they ended up there. Now after the seven chapters of exploring the past, we finally are back to the present._**

**_Again, like with the other chapters, some situations/scenes are borrowed from the Indiana Jones movies (in fact, you will likely recognize them) with the intent to show how Chance is similar to the character of Dr. Jones._**

**_I wanted to make a shout-out to** Cedricsowner!** Her stories in this forum inspire me and have got me through some pretty rough times! I admire her beyond words! I want to thank her for her continued support and keeping so many fans and readers out there entertained!_**

**_**Niagaraweasel** Where do I begin? She not only is a wonderful Beta reader that takes time away from her life to help me she adds so much to these chapters. I've said this before, she is wonderfully creative and makes the story just that much better. Thank you so so much!_**

**Chapter Nine**

_The Present:_

Damn, the water was cold… clear and clean, but downright numbing! And it wasn't helping that the sun's last rays were threatening to disappear behind the rolling mountains.

The exchange back at the resort hadn't gone as planned, but then they hadn't really expected it to. All things considered, their situation could be better, but it could also be a lot worse.

For several miles Chance and Ilsa allowed the twisting flow of the river to carry them down stream. There was an awkward silence between them, a growing tension that would soon reach breaking point. Chance going down into the temple apparently without any regard to Ilsa's obvious disapproval had only added fuel to the already raging fire.

But they'd also shared some intimate moments that were new to them and their relationship, which only served to complicate the situation. And their current case allowed no time to address either the good or the bad. Now, however, they were finally alone, it was quiet and even kind of peaceful, but their surrounding weren't exactly ideal.

So they continued to drift silently. Chance would reach out and pull Ilsa closer to him if she drifted more than a few feet away from him. They said nothing at all but every once in a while their eyes locked, filled with a wealth of emotions that neither could decipher.

It was Chance who finally broke the silence, "This will do." Chance was confident they had drifted far enough away from their pursuers. He climbed out of the cold river, _slowly_, his body screaming like a freight train coming to a sudden halt. Those traps in the temple had really challenged his body like nothing else ever had and being poisoned was the proverbial icing on the cake. The antidote hadn't kicked in yet and his insides felt like they were melting away. Usually he had a high threshold for pain, but this was bad even for his standards.

He turned awkwardly and reached for Ilsa's hand to pull her out of the water, the simple movement resulting in a painful hiss. Once she was out he allowed himself to collapse on the shore. Leaning on one elbow, he wiped the water from his stinging eyes with his other hand and tried to get his labored breathing under control again.

Ilsa stood on the shore, cold, wet and dizzy. Fear, indignation, exhilaration and the aftereffects of the adrenalin rush of their daring escape mixed up together with a host of other, less easily definable emotions into a great roiling mass of confusion that left her shaking from more than just prolonged immersion in cold river water. Unable – and unwilling – to sort out the tangled mess, her overtaxed brain seized on the most inane, trivial thing for relief…..

"Look at my dress!"

Chance opened his mouth to let out a much-needed groan, but was cut short by Ilsa's indignant voice.

He closed his mouth and just stared at her dumbfounded. Ilsa held up what used to be her cascading shirt. "This used to be an Armani original… now it's a dishrag!" Their only source of light was the full moon. But it was all the light Chance needed to see Ilsa's crestfallen face.

_Are you kidding_? He turned his head from her. His feelings towards her ever since the shots had rung out at the resort were a mixture of annoyance and amusement and now he wasn't sure which emotion was stronger –but he had a suspicion that annoyance was getting the upper hand…

"Well, don't just lie there like a landed fish. Say something!"

Chance looked back at her, squinting one eye and raising his eyebrows as he rubbed his sore and bruised jaw, scanning her up and down...

"Ow?"

That simple, incongruous sound snapped Ilsa back to reality as she noticed the rather bedraggled condition of her companion. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill him for everything he had put her through, go all mother-hen on him for all he had gone through … or maybe just ravish him on the spot…. So she decided on a bit of everything – short of the ravishing. "Sorry, of course, are you okay? It has been a terrible few days for you. But you know you do really lack proper caution!" She placed her hands on her hips.

"Proper caution?" Chance questioned, still unbelieving they were having this conversation.

"Yes, you are reckless, to say the least. More so than usual on this assignment," She folded her arms in front of her to drive her point home then glanced around helplessly. There was nothing around to provide him with any kind of comfort. They were completely stranded! She felt herself become panicked, shaking her hands frantically by her sides as if she were trying to dry them. Chance continued to watch her without reacting. He almost smiled to himself, she actually looked kind of cute all wet and messed up.

When he didn't respond or jump immediately to sooth her, she stood still; her lips began to tremble, her panicked eyes piercing him, pleading for him to do something.

Still saying nothing, Chance dragged himself to his feet and stood there slouched. Ilsa had to admit, she'd never seen him this bad He looked rough; his eyes were red-rimmed and he was as white as a ghost. He resembled a drug addict going through withdrawals. Oh she knew he'd been poisoned before, but this was the first time she'd seen the effects for herself, and they were made worse by the fact that he'd gone through a beating the day before.

Chance wasn't sure if he wanted to hug her or be angry with her. One moment she looked absolutely terrified, and the next she was back to fussing with her dress. He shook his head and started scanning their surroundings. Seriously? It was now completely dark, no one knew where they were, they had no shelter or supplies – and they still had quite a way to go to get back to the rest of the team. _And she's worried about a damn dress!_

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, because he just couldn't think of anything.

"Come on Ilsa," he reached for her arm. "We got to get you out of that dress."

"I beg your pardon!" Ilsa snapped indignantly and pulled her arm away.

Chance rolled his eyes, let out a heavy sigh and grumbled, "I mean, we've got to find shelter and get dry and warm –both of us." Under normal circumstances, when he wasn't poisoned, or hadn't been through the depths of hell, he'd have been all over her with a wiseass comment or some smart come back. Something witty like Han Solo might have said to Princess Leia, or Indiana Jones to his female sidekick, but, as much as he wanted to, he was just completely incapable of coming up with a facetious response, something he so often engaged in with her.

He turned away from her, rubbing the back of his neck and started to walk, leaving her standing there.

Instantly embarrassed Ilsa's cheeks flushed with heat and redness. "Right, of course." She shook her head at herself and gingerly followed him, still trying to keep her shoes and dress from being totally destroyed. "I knew that's what you meant."

After almost an hour of wandering along the river bank, in silence again, Ilsa finally spoke. "We can't just keep wandering around out here…" She hugged herself as her lips quivered.

"We need to find some type of shelter," Chance flatly answered without looking back as he continued to move slower than usual; and not just because he wanted Ilsa to keep up.

He definitely wasn't feeling better but at least he could tell he wasn't getting worse. The antidote seemed to have finally neutralized the poison eating away at his organs and he could feel his mental sharpness returning to some degree, enough anyway to know that in this darkness and cold if they didn't find shelter soon they'd not live through the night.

Ilsa had managed to follow Chance for some time without complaining, but their dire situation was started to get to her. She stopped and leaned her body against a large boulder. Her eyes swelled up with tears. She _was _trying to be strong, she really was but she was not made for this, she was not trained like Chance, she didn't have his strength, his experience, hell, nobody did.

"Chance, I'm sorry, I can't go on, please just go ahead without me, it'll be faster, you can come back for me." She knew she would only be a burden if they continued any farther.

Chance seemed to be ignoring her. Something had caught his eye, and then a celebratory grin formed on his lips. He turned back to her and slowly walked up to her sagging body. She tried to sit up straight and look strong as she feared she'd detected a little annoyance in his expression, but instead his face was soft as he gently moved a strand of her hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. His eyes held intense contact with her scared ones. He didn't say anything as he efficiently wrapped his arms around her small frame and scooped her up. She immediately felt the warmth of his body against hers. "It's going to be fine, trust me," he whispered into her hair.

She held on to his neck tightly as he carried her, feelings of guilt surging through her as she thought about his pain and how difficult it must be to carry her now, but the warmth she was feeling from his body made it too difficult to insist he let her go.

"Chance, I can walk, put me down," she finally forced herself to say.

"It's okay, we're here." He gently set her back on her feet.

"We're where?" she asked looking around at what she thought was nothing.

All she could discern was they had ventured into a small cove cut from the river, thick with trees and bushes. To any untrained eye it looked just like everything else around them. But Chance knew exactly what it was. He had been trained to hide things exactly that way.

Chance walked a few steps forward and quickly began to pull back some bushes. By now they were both shivering so hard their teeth couldn't chatter fast enough, it wouldn't be long before hypothermia would become a real problem for them.

As Ilsa watched Chance remove bushes she squinted her eyes, was that…?There appeared to be a hidden, wooden structure. Ilsa blinked her eyes; was the cold causing her to hallucinate? She held her hand over her mouth and slowly walked forward. Was that a boat? Yes, it was one of those antique wooden sailboats, the kind you could comfortably live on for weeks on the ocean. It was beached and slightly damaged in the shallow water, but it would definitely provide shelter.

"It was hidden on purpose," Chance explained, still removing branches, "which means, there might be some supplies in here. It was likely used by smugglers, when it was damaged they decided to hide it, to not draw attention to their operation and later abandoned it. It'd be too much of a risk to just wait for back up. But I doubt they'd go to the trouble of taking all the supplies, they'd bolt with only their loot. With any luck, the supplies are still here.

"Will it be safe then?" Ilsa asked concerned.

"They don't need it any more, it's a casualty to their operation. And it's certainly safer than freezing to death," Chance finished moving enough branches to reveal a deck that lead to a door. He Jumped on board and gave it a strong shove and the frame gave way with a large crackle.

Down a few steps was the living area, it was warm and inviting. Their movement stirred the dust that hadn't been disturbed in some time. A few windows were smashed out, but it had a bed, sitting area and blankets and pillows. The room was tastefully decorated and boosted the original beautiful wood work.

Chance glanced around and started rummaging through drawers. He found some candles and matches and quickly got started getting the candles lit. Ilsa had followed him and stood there amazed, mouth hanging open and shivering at the same time.

She was unsure she wanted to be in there until Chance pointed out cupboards full of supplies; bottled water, energy bars, even a first aid kit. Ilsa rushed forward, grabbed a bar and water and began wolfing them down.

Chance smiled at her back and went back to arranging their shelter for a comfortable, warm, safe night.

A few minutes later he had the candles lit. He turned to Ilsa, she had her back to him and was still munching on her bar. He was cold and tired and still felt like he had been hit by a semi-trailer, but there was something about her presence that sent a warm surge through his veins.

He slowly walked up to Ilsa, placing his hands on her shoulders to stop her from turning to face him. Gently he brushed her hair away from the back of her neck to reveal the clasp of her dress. Ilsa let out a small gasp as the touch of his fingers on her neck sent shots of instant warmth through her cold body. She immediately forgot about the energy bar and concentrated on regulating her breathing.

Without any trouble he undid her clasp and then rested his hands on her shoulders again, speaking softly into her ear. "Time to get out of these wet clothes, let them dry and um...ah..." He inhaled her smell, her natural smell, without any perfumes and scented creams. Those had all been washed away by the river. His brain felt fuzzy, but this time he was sure it was not the effect of the poison. He was finding it difficult being articulate. He quickly removed his hands and stepped back. He felt his senses coming alive as Ilsa held up her dress in the front so it wouldn't fall and she put a bit more distance between them, glancing back over her shoulder at him.

Watching the perfect form saunter away, Chance gave his head a small shake, turned his back to her, giving her some privacy and started unbuttoning his shirt. He then tried to finish his sentence, "...um, we need to use our body heat to... believe me, if there was a better way...". He stopped working on the buttons of his shirt and glanced over his shoulder, "...not that any man wouldn't love the opportunity to be next to...be glad to have a warm body..." The more he talked the more he felt like he was digging himself into a big hole.

"Well of course, we have no choice. We are both adults..." It was Ilsa's turn to try to sound matter of fact. "I'm so cold I'd do just about anything," she quickly added.

For the second time this day Chance was struggling with his shirt. Putting it on this morning had been a painful chore only accomplished with Ilsa's help, and since then things hadn't gotten any better….in fact they had become even worse. He turned back towards her, arms raised in a helpless manner….. just in time to see her let her dress drop to the floor. She stood wearing only lace black panties, with her arms crossed in front of her and her hands covering her bare breasts. With lightning quick reflexes she grabbed one of the blankets and held it up in front of her. She blushed several shades of red which thankfully went largely unnoticed in the candle lit room.

Chance forced himself to concentrate on her face, something he had mastered quite well in his life. She was perfect and her skin looked warm and inviting. He always appreciated his great peripheral vision, but at times like these he was the most grateful. His minded clouded for a moment as he imagined how her soft warm body would feel against his sore, aching one. But Ilsa's scornful eyes pulled him down from the cloud and something else registered in his mind. With obvious purpose he allowed his eyes to glance to her now blanket covered breast, his brow furrowed, "Ilsa, why aren't you wearing a bra?"

"What?" Ilsa shot back with equal confusion.

He gestured one hand towards her, but averted his eyes uncomfortably while rubbing the back of his neck with the other, "you could have….. I mean we can warm each other just as well with your bra on…." Chance sounded a touch flustered and caught off guard. This situation was already extremely uncomfortable for the two of them. He was struggling with the need to stay professional and his desire to act on feelings he had denied for months, and this definitely wasn't helping. The fact was neither one was willing to admit their obviously attraction to each other. It had almost become a game of wills, flirtation and temptation.

This added complication just might force him to give up and show his feelings first, something he wasn't sure he was ready to do, but was his ability to fight it any longer was definitely breaking down. He didn't want to lose the game of will over a technicality like a bra. Taking her bra off was..., well, cheating. But it wasn't just the game of wits and will - though it faded a little with each day, deep down Chance still had a hard time believing anyone would return his love or that he even deserved it for that matter. So quickly getting back into game mode, Chance gathered himself together, a playful grin forming on his face. "Now is not the time to try to seduce me…. " He focused his eyes back on hers with a mischievous gleam that she swore was saying, '_admit it, you want me_'.

Ilsa's eyes narrowed and they held a hint of a hard, unkind amusement. She scrunched up her face. "Mr Chance, can you tell me how the in the world one would wear a bra with that dress?"

She harshly pointed her finger to the destroyed dress, now lying in a heap around her ankles. When Chance's eyes moved to her dress she quickly adjusted the blanket more comfortably, letting out an annoyed huff, but closely watched him from the corner of her eye.

Chance studied the soggy mess that had once been a beautiful dress – a beautiful backless dress. "Right….," He shook his head as he remembered the scene back at the resort when they were dancing and his hand held her bare back. He even recalled affectionately caressing it while they danced to maintain their cover of a couple in love, and how the smoothness of her skin had made it easy to stay in character. His job required a lot of acting, but with this cover and Ilsa as his hot wife, it was effortless. Had they not been on an assignment he might have..._of course you can't wear a bra with that dress; her entire back was exposed_. "I guess the poison is affecting my memory." He shook his head and continued his attempt to remove his shirt.

Ilsa eyes softened and her brow frowned in concern. Blood had started to soak through the bandages wrapped around his chest. Once again, for about the 100th time on this mission, her annoyance turn to sympathy. "Turn around," Ilsa whispered softly.

Chance turned away from Ilsa and she slowly walked up to him. Wrapping the blanket around her and securing it like you would a towel she reached up and gently began to pull his shirt off his shoulders carefully trying to avoid his injuries. "I strongly suggest you stay away from any more physical encounters."

"Really, all physical encounters?" he interrupted her, his voice raspy and sexy.

"As I was saying," Ilsa smiled and swallowed hard, "all _violent _physical encounters and avoid poison for a little while." She continued her job but as careful as she was he inhaled sharply a few times and his breath stuttered as the shirt slid off his shoulders and fell to the ground.

"Thank you," he said, not turning around.

Ilsa's eyes traced sadly down Chance's back as she examined his many injuries. _The stronger the back, the heavier the burdens it carries_, she thought sadly. "I need to replace a few of those bandages before we try to get warm." Ilsa shivered as she walked over to the cupboard where the supplies were and returned with a first aid kit.

Ilsa made quick work of the bandages around his ribs. He held his arms up allowing her easy access. He never said one word or made any type of resistance, nor did he look at her face. There was that awkward silence again. But the energy coming off their bodies could fire up the old boat. Even with all these wounds his body was a powerhouse. It was pure perfection and Ilsa was losing her will to resist him. She wondered if Chance detected her trembling hands as she bandaged him up. Of course he did, but maybe he would just figure it was because she was cold.

"At least the cuts aren't getting infected," she said, looking up at Chance. "And now we really need to get warm." She retreated to the sleeping area that had been precisely arranged by Chance for their warmth and comfort. The lit candles were arranged as close to the sleeping quarters as possible to add a touch of light and warmth. He had gathered as many blankets as her could find, shaken them out and piled them on the mattress. She dropped the blanket wrapped around her and crawled under the covers. They had a chill to them as she snuggled her body down. Once she was under the covers she asked, "Is the antidote working? Are you feeling better?" She lay with her back away from him.

Chance finished removing his pants and started walking towards the bed. "Well, I'm not dead, and I'm pretty sure I'd be by now if it wasn't. But being so damn cold makes it hard to tell what I'm feeling." No kidding, Ilsa thought, she didn't know what she was feeling either. She'd been through such a whirlwind of emotions over the last few days.

Ilsa felt her heart race as she heard the boat's floor boards creak indicating Chance moving towards her. She next felt the mattress sag where he placed his knee. "Ilsa, I want you on the outside, closer to the warmth of the candles, I'm going to crawl over you." He attempted to lift his leg over her hip, "...ouch, watch your...ooohh, let me get my leg,...". Chance let out a painful hiss as he used his arms to steady himself. What should have been a simple task turned into a monstrous obstacle.

With no strength left, Chance's arms buckled at the precise moment when Ilsa rolled on her back. Their faces were mere inches apart, his body on hers, tangled in each other and the covers. Chance grimaced, there was a pained look on his face but when he felt quiet, curious, eyes on him he met them and they fell into a deep gaze. Neither made any immediate movement to correct the situation. Ilsa felt a hyper-awareness with every one of her senses, her skin tingled and hummed, as if an electrical charge were running through her body. She knew being close to Chance would warm her fast but this was almost instant.

But soon reality set in and Chance averted his eyes away from her. "Sorry, you okay? I guess I'm still weak." His voice cracked a little.

For a moment Ilsa was unable to respond. _Of course, let us once again ignore what's really going on here. _"I'm fine," she whispered.

After some great difficulty Chance managed to get his body behind her and then he let out a painful sigh. Ilsa felt a chill the instant Chance's body left hers. She laid on her side, resting her hands under her head, her back to him. Her eyes were wide and awake as the mattress bounced and sagged. There was a big commotion going on behind her as Chance painfully struggled to find a position that was comfortable.

Several minutes passed with Chance probing and wincing, letting out a grunt here and there. If she hadn't felt so annoyed about his constant moving, the odd knee in her back, almost being pushed out of the bed at times, she might have noticed her body temperature levelling out.

Finally, Chance settled down, close behind her. When she felt his skin gently and slowly come into contact with her back, her breath quivered. Next she felt a strong arm slide over her waist and tighten around her, pulling her closer to his body. Her mind shot back to the tent when she had crawled, unknown to Chance, in his cot with him. His embrace was so strong but gentle at the same time, she had felt safe and secure. She felt that same way again. But this time he was aware of his actions.

Chance felt warmth spread through his body. It was incredible to finally have a physical feeling that felt good and wasn't an ache. But then he became aware of a new physical ache, one that he couldn't explain; it was different, almost like its source was desire or a craving. He pushed it away and enjoyed the touch of her soft, satiny skin. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the smell of her hair.

Almost immediately their bodies reacted to each other and their temperature began to climb. Ilsa was not surprised she couldn't drift to sleep. Too much had happened, too much excitement. How could she sleep when one of the most handsome men she'd ever met was lying half-naked against her.

And it was more than just his obvious good looks, if she were honest with herself she'd have to admit she was developing some pretty strong feelings for this ex-assassin. He was hard to read, very stoic. And when he wasn't stoic he was teasing her or being sarcastic. She had been around long enough to know this was his defence. Not only was he a master at protecting people, but he was a master at staying detached from those he cared for.

This is where she came in or rather she wondered where she fit in. His going down into the temple had almost destroyed her. Did he know this, did he understand or care? She couldn't help but feel this would be an ideal time for them to explore these feelings. Despite his attempts to keep her at arm's length, she was positive his determination to keep her safe went beyond his need for redemption.

His comfort was short lived.

She moved just slightly and he groaned.

"Chance?"

"Hmmm," he mumbled a response.

"Are you okay?"

"U-ha," he responded affirmatively.

She wiggled a little, he hissed.

"Sorry."

They lay quiet and still a little longer. But every small movement Ilsa made resulted in a suppressed moan or a few curse words.

"Ilsa, will you _please _stop moving!"

"All I'm doing is breathing..."

"You're moving..."

"Just breathing."

"Well, stop it..."

"You want me to stop breathing?"

"No, just moving," due to the blankets around Chance's head, his voice was muffled.

This was impossible and to make matters worse she had an itch on her nose. When she couldn't stand it anymore she slowly and cautiously moved her hand ever so carefully to scratch it.

"Ilsa, that hurts...," Chance whined. Ilsa felt her chest tighten in frustration. Freezing to death was almost looking like a better option. "Your elbow is digging into my ribs...", he continued.

"You wouldn't be in such a mess if you didn't have such an utter lack of concern for yourself," Ilsa spat. "You have this misguided perception that you are invulnerable, but I think your current state has proved otherwise."

"Ilsa, when your mouth opens...it hurts."

"Don't change the subject," Ilsa tilted her head back towards him as she spoke and he flinched back in discomfort. "You don't need to prove anything else to me, I'm impressed all right, you are a big strong man who can do anything and look good doing it...there, is that what you needed to hear, will you stop now? Will this ever stop?" Ilsa could feel tears stinging behind her eyes. Was it possible to be angry, hurt, annoyed, and frustrated and yet still be filled with pity, sadness, excitement and fear at the same time?

Chance smiled at her comment, either she hated him or she was beginning to like him.

"It'll stop if you stop moving," Chance answered the wrong question.

Anger flared in her, she turned her body to face him, and he suppressed a scream and growled in his throat. "No! Stop the recklessness!"

The pain was too much, the discomfort excruciating, he was listening but not hearing a word.

She was getting worked up because she could tell he wasn't hearing her.

"Ouch, Ilsa, watch it, can you please move your elbow away...wait don't touch me there..."

Ilsa tried to comply with his request but everything she did only caused him to pull away and push her and grimace more.

Finally, Ilsa threw herself to the floor bringing a top blanket with her, holding it in front of her, narrowing her eyes at Chance in complete annoyance. "Damn it Chance, where the hell doesn't it hurt?" Her tone caught her off guard, she hadn't meant to sound so harsh.

Pure shock and puzzlement were written all over Chance's face, then realizing what just happened his brow became lowered and angry, then stubbornly and almost childishly he held up his arm and pointed to a small spot located between his elbow and wrist, "Here!" he said in a stern almost angry voice.

Oh, this was priceless. Ilsa couldn't help but grin. And again, her heart softened. Holding the blanket in front of her she got up on her knees and inched over to the bed, concentrating hard on Chance's eyes, which were now filled with confusion as the annoyance softened. She leaned towards him and he pulled back cautiously eyeing her, still holding his arm up. She put one knee of the bed and leaned towards him, still not removing her eyes from his. He furrowed his eyebrows and she seductively leaned in and kissed the spot he had pointed to. He took in a quick soft breath, but then sternly added, "Here!" he pointed to his collar bone, ironically the one she had poked only a night ago. She smiled gently at him, leaned in and softly and slowly, lingering a little longer than on his forearm, she blew on his collar bone then kissed it gently. Chance's eye's rolled to the back of his head.

When she lifted her head her eyes questioned him as to where else? Chance had to think about it for a second, it was hard to find spots that didn't hurt, "This..." he pointed to the top of his ear, "...isn't too bad."

She wasn't smiling anymore, her look was pure seduction as she communicated her needs with her eyes. She had officially succumbed to his signature puppy dog eyes, those consuming blue eyes. His animal magnetism was like a sixth sense and drew her in, his raw charisma inspired her to throw caution to the wind. She moved in closer, reached up and gently pushed back his hair that was messed around his ear. She leaned in and lightly sucked and kissed the top of his ear, slowly pushing him back on the bed. He allowed her to move him back as he slightly grimaced and his breath increased.

After applying several soft kisses to his ear she sat back and looked at him. He slowed his breathing and wet his lips. His eye deeply scanned her covered body, up to her bare shoulders and stopped at her eyes, he took his finger and reluctantly touched his lip, "um, this isn't..." Before he could finish Ilsa leaned in and gently placed her lips on his. At first the kiss was soft and gentle but with his encouragement she increased the intensity and the desire roared in her. Chance moaned with both pain and pleasure.

Then, his moaning stopped and his breathing became even. Ilsa pulled back, she had her hands resting on the wall behind him. She blinked hard in disbelief. Was he sleeping? She moved closer, oh my god, he had really fallen asleep! At first she felt rage and was about to pound his chest but caught herself. As much as it seemed that he was not human, he really was and he had gone through some very inhuman things in the last few days. A disappointed smile crossed her lips though and she softly whispered, "We just can't catch a break, can we."

Silently and very carefully she laid her body down, next to him, skin on skin. Well, she reasoned, we still need to stay warm. She gently placed her head on his chest and his arm instinctively wrapped around her as he mumbled and groaned but didn't open his eyes. Was this going to be yet another night he didn't remember that they spend next to each other? Seriously, what were the odds? She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply and let out a slow sigh.

She willed her body to calm down and stop fighting rest. Just as her body was about to give in and fall into a peaceful, safe sleep, she felt strong fingers intertwine with her hair and tilt her face up where she felt passionate, almost desperate lips meet hers. He slowed the kiss but never removed his lips from her, she could feel the grin on his lips against her as he softly mumbled, "Ilsa," he moved his lips to her neck, "I knew the second you got into my cot with me. And this time you don't have to leave… "


	10. Chapter 10

**So, this is it! What started out as just an experiment with only one chapter in my mind, no idea if I'd continue the story, has turned into something a little longer...ten chapters later...it comes to an end.**

**There is no doubt in my mind I would not have continued this story if it wasn't for the support and help of Niagaraweasel and Cedricsowner. **

**As mentioned before, this chapter is no different then the others, Niagaraweasel was a great sounding board, always there for me to throw ideas at her and she would throw great ones back. She helped again clean and polish this chapter up: _Thank you GIRL!_**

**Also, thank you to all those that have read this story and followed it and to those that have left reviews. It certainly is a motivator to continue**

**_So here concludes my comparison of two great, entertaining men, Indiana Jones and Christopher Chance. This chapter is more Chance than Indiana but if you look closely you'll see one "shout-out" to "Last Crusade"_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target or The Indiana Jones Movies and intend no copyright infringement. **

Chapter ten

Chance slowly opened his eyes. Where was he? His attempt to lift his head off the pillow resulted in immediate stiffness and pain that cleared his mind instantly. Reality came flooding back like a cold, harsh, wave crashing over him. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head back down, right, his body had been through hell, he had been poisoned...Chance glanced down at his chest and examined the damage, well, he was still alive, so the antidote had worked. Then the flood of memories changed, became warm and pleasurable; Ilsa..._Ilsa? _He reached over to the spot where her warm body had been snuggled against him all night. Ilsa? Quickly he sat up, leaning on one arm, wincing at the movement, and scanned the room. A surge of panic raced through his body. He was just about to throw the blankets off and swing his legs out of bed when he stopped.

An angelic figure appeared in his vision. The morning sun shining through the wooden boat's broken windows cast a glow around the figure in the otherwise dim room. Maybe he had died after all.

As the figure approached and he could make out the smiling face, he relaxed, his demeanour becoming playful and seductive, "Ilsa, I said, _this time _you didn't have to leave." He patted the spot beside him and studied her.

Her hair was a wild mess around her head, her face was void of any make-up, exposing her natural beauty, her skin glowed like the stars last night. She looked rested and relaxed. He dragged his eyes from her face to her body, and stopped. To his disappointment, the warm soft body he had held the night before was covered up.

"Look what I found," Ilsa answered his unspoken questions. "They were left." She stood in front of him wearing a camouflage lumberjack style shirt, several sizes too big. It hung on her tiny shoulders and was unbuttoned all the way down, teasing Chance with just a glimpse of soft bare skin.

He lay silent smiling at her. "What?" she questioned his smile and fervent stare.

He pulled back the covers, revealing his toned but injured body. Ilsa's eyes widened at his barely dressed body, if it weren't for the injuries she'd swear he was a Greek god. He was moving much better this morning, the rest had done him wonders.

"What?" She asked again. He wasn't answering her or breaking eye contact as he slowly moved towards her. Nervously she started to step backwards.

She came to a complete halt when strong hands grabbed her open shirt and pulled her back, inch by inch to his body.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes of his desire. She could feel his powerful knuckles through the shirt against her skin as he held on to it. Without looking down, he buttoned the button between her breasts, slowly and precisely, making sure his fingers lingered, gently brushing her bare skin. He slid his hands down to the next button and began to button it. Her belly quivered.

His patience was remarkable. Ilsa concluded this was due to his discipline, intense training, experience and all the t'ai chi stuff he did. She, on the other hands, felt like she wasn't getting enough oxygen to her brain. Her eyes fluttered and she felt herself push her body against his hands more.

But then he stopped before moving on to the next button. Ilsa took a sharp breath. The entire time his eyes never left hers. He removed his hands from her shirt and placed them on either side of her head, running his fingers under her hair, he leaned down to her lips, stopping when he was just a hairsbreadth away. Although she tried not to move the longing was killing Ilsa. A warm tingling sensation expanded through her body. He smiled and then softly and gently placed his lips on her.

The kiss was long and tender and very alluring. But far too soon, the reality of their situation intruded on Ilsa's mind again. She pulled away slightly and he tried to reach for her again, "Chance, we need to find a way to get help."

He was persistent, planting a few more kissing on Ilsa's neck, pulling her hips towards him, as she fought in vain to protest. Any will they had of fighting their attraction to each other had completely vanished the moment she had planted that kiss on his arm last night.

His voice vibrated against her skin as he spoke with his face buried against her neck. "Behind you is a navigational system. I'll have it up and running in no time." He planted more kisses and added, "we can spare a few hours."

The sensation was all she needed to be convinced. But a short lived thought flashed in her mind; _what navigational system? I never saw one and I've been awake looking around. His eyes haven't left me...how did he know?...when did he see the navigational...oh god, who cares_. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he sucked on her neck.

He pulled away from her neck and looked down at her with a half sheepish, half smirk on his lips, "that shirt looks really good on you." He tugged at the partially buttoned shirt, directing her backwards into the bed. With no more than token resistance she followed him.

"But come to think of it, I think I'd like it better off you.." He lay back with a shameless twinkle in his eye as Ilsa leaned over him on her knees. He pulled her down towards him, efficiently undoing every button he had only moments ago done up.

**Two hours later**

Ilsa lay in bed watching Chance work. He was focused and his posture was determined. His strong bare arms worked and flexed and his hands easily found their way around the boat's navigational and communication systems. She smiled inwardly and there was a touch of glimmer in her eyes.

She grabbed the shirt off the end of the bed - the one that only few hours ago had been the subject of so much attention, she smiled at the memory as she slipped her arms through it. Then she started to crawl out of the bed.

Chance sensed her moving and turned around to her. "You okay?"

Man, he was good at being a gentleman; she stood there wearing only the big shirt, yet his gaze focused only on her eyes. Ilsa had always had this thing about men, if they didn't look her in the face when honestly inquiring about her feelings, they made her feel used. Chance passed this test every time.

"Yes, I'm fine, Just going to the bathroom to try to freshen up," she smiled at his charm.

When Ilsa returned from the bathroom Chance turned to her. He got up and walked towards her. He still had the bandages wrapped around his ribs but the blood no longer soaked through. She studied his frame as he closed the space between them. He had put his now dried tuxedo pants back on. Her Peripheral vision wasn't as sharp or developed as Chance's making it very difficult for her to keep her eyes on his face, there was no point in even trying to pretend.

"Good news, I was able to reach Guerrero," his irrepressible smile inched over his lips.

Ilsa didn't respond.

_What did he say_?

His words, to her surprise, actually caused her stress instead of providing relief. She thought she'd be happy to be saved, she thought she wanted to be saved...she thought. Now that it was actually happening she felt a mixture of panic and confusion. Her eyes started to well up with tears. Chance furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, he thought this would be good news. Why wasn't she jumping for joy.

"Ilsa, what's wrong?" He stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, his head tilted as he studied her now distressed face.

Ilsa nervously ran her fingers through her hair then let her hands fall to her sides. "This isn't over. For a few hours we were able to forget about this damn, dangerous mission," She turned from him and he still watched her puzzled. "Chance this mission has practically killed you, more than once. And now that we will be rescued, you'll finish this," She glanced back at him then quickly looked away again, her eyes flashed concern but there was something else Chance detected in them, something stronger.

Chance was beginning to understand, he smiled at her concern for him.

"Ilsa, it's all fine..."

"No it's not!" She screeched, turning fast with a fury towards him. "Damn it, Chance, what else, what the hell else can you go through? And I'm a wreck, not just from waiting for you to come back alive from some damn adrenaline junkie rush, need-to-be-the-hero adventure fiasco, but I'm not used to this kind of field work." She stepped towards him and spoke more quietly. "Those people," she pointed out the window, "they were trying to kill us, they were shooting at us," her voice was uncharacteristically mean and started to raise again, "I jumped from a four story window into a pool, drove in a truck off a cliff, plunged hundreds of feet into an icy river and drifted for hours..." Her eyes were wide and filled with bewilderment, sincerely shocked that someone would actually try to kill her.

"I know, Ilsa!" Chance tried to reach for her arm and she pulled it away.

"This is a new experience for me," she shook her head in dismay

Chance pursed his lips and shrugged looking off to the side, "Happens to me all the time," he mumbled more to himself than to her.

"Ilsa," he took a step forward, pulled her into his arms with enough force any resistance she made was pointless, and kissed the top of her head. "Ilsa, it's over, the others have Gavin," he said, he rubbed her back and the warm weight calmed Ilsa.

"What?"

"Yes, he's safe, it's over. After we made our escape from the balcony, Winston, Guerrero and Ames fled through the parking lot. Apparently there was chaos everywhere. Castillo tried to sneak out through the back only to lead them to an unattended van holding Gavin. With all the thugs fighting the insanity in the resort, he was alone, completely incapable of fighting them off. It was a simple recovery and Castillo is in custody and spilling the beans on his boss."

Ilsa pulled her head off his chest and looked up.

"It is over, we are going home," he smiled down at her. "Guerrero has our coordinates." He leaned down and kissed her lips. He hadn't expected to do that, was this going to be a regular thing with them now?

When he pulled away she still had a sad look on her face, "Chance, for you, it's never completely over." She gave him her best half-hearted smile and added, "I am glad that we are going to be saved."

Chance knew exactly what she was referring to. But he never addressed it or tried to comfort her in this regard. This was his life, his job. He couldn't make any promises he wouldn't be able to keep.

"Ilsa, _this _mission is over," he placed reassuring hands on her shoulders.

Of course, what did she expect? Just because they finally came clean on their feelings that everything would change, that he'd just like that stop his suicide missions. Come to think of it, they had never actually come clean on their feelings...oh yes, their physical attraction, but feelings...

Chance had again leaned down to kiss her. Now he pulled back with a gleam in his eye. An accepting smile teased at Ilsa lips. It didn't matter how she felt or what fears she had. They had to go back and he would continue to work.

"You know, um, our rescue team...they are going to take a while...we have a few hours," he grinned shamelessly his blue eyes blazed.

"In that case….. ," she raised an eyebrow and started leading him back to the bed.

**Next day back in San Francisco-The warehouse**

Ilsa sat alone, cuddled down on the couch. The warehouse was quiet except for the heavy rain striking the windows. The wind off the bay was unforgiving; behaving as if provoked.

It had been a long flight home. As soon as they were rescued it seemed like everything was back to the way it was. Chance's behaviour was his usual stoic self and he spent most of the crowded flight home discussing the case with the gang.

No one asked what had happened to them or how they had managed to stay alive. It was the big unanswered question in the plane.

Funny, Ilsa thought, she had never felt that the plane was crowded before. But on this flight, after what felt to her like being ripped from Chance's embrace and not having any time alone to discuss the hours on the boat and the events building up to it made her feel like she was packed into a can of sardines.

Now, she sat alone, Chance was out, Guerrero was who knew where. Ames was playing games on her computer in her office and she was sure Winston was in his office.

"_Mrs Pucci?"_

Oh, darn, how many times had Winston said her name? Startled she sat up. He had a concerned look on his face and turned his eyes upwards to Chance's living quarters questioningly then back to her. She knew she'd been caught studying Chance's home and daydreaming about him.

He relayed the news to her she was expecting, "The Fitzpatrick brothers will be here shortly, Mrs Pucci." Winston's tone turned concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. Great, when they arrive please escort them into the conference room." She smiled and looked down at her hands.

Winston just nodded and turned to leave.

"Um, Mr. Winston," he stopped in his tracks and turned to her with raised eyebrows. "Do you know where Mr. Chance is?"

Almost embarrassed, Winston shook his head. "No ma'am...he never said anything to me." He began to walk away again and turned back once more, "he knew the brothers were coming by sometime today, I'm sure he'll be back."

Ilsa just nodded and turned to gaze out of the window. Winston shook his head at the thought of Chance and his uncanny ability to run away from feelings. He returned to his office to wait for the brothers. He had seen the way Ilsa had looked at Chance on the plane and how Chance had pretended he didn't notice.

A few moments later the security systems alerted them that the brothers had arrived.

Winston strolled from his office and Ames appeared from Ilsa's office.

Ilsa picked herself off the couch, straightened herself out and went to meet the brothers as well.

Guerrero magically appeared out of nowhere, munching on some leftovers. This, of course, came as no surprise to Ilsa and Winston. Ames still after all this time looked at him puzzled.

When the elevator doors opened the two brothers were not alone. Chance was with them. Ilsa rolled her eyes, the three men were wrapped up in an excited conversation about...she let out a tsk...old things. They barely even noticed their greeting party.

"Welcome!" Winston broke up the enthusiastic talk, giving Chance a stern eye; _dear god, he is totally taken by this archaeology crap,_ he thought_, Great!_ He smiled through his teeth.

"Please come this way," he escorted the entire group to the conference room.

When they all had settled themselves around the table Guerrero was the first to speak, "Hey dudes," he said in between bites, "congratulations!" He toasted the brothers with his fork.

The congratulations was more for them actually being alive and back together than for the fact that the government had given them a million dollar grant to go back to the temple and perform a proper excavation.

The brothers were as giddy as young boys let lose in a candy store.

"We are so grateful!" John said, looking at each member of the team before his eyes stopped on Chance.

"There is no question in my mind I'd be dead if I had tried to retrieve that idol myself and Gavin would be dead as well," he kept his eyes on Chance.

"I could not believe when I was rescued from the parking lot that you had managed to get the idol. I had told John it was not possible...at all." Gavin spoke to the group for the first time.

"Grateful doesn't come close to describing how we feel," John's voice was sincere and he spoke slowly. "The idols are all together now, they have been safely put on display in The University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology

"We wish there was some way to repay you," Gavin continued.

"Hey, don't mention it," Chance brushed off their thanks like he only lent them the tools to get the idol themselves. Yet, many of the injuries from the mission were still very visible on his body as were the regular wincing when an unguarded movement pulled at one of them.

Ilsa shot him an angry look. She was not surprised he didn't look back, although she knew he could feel his eyes burning holes into him. She had become keenly aware of how good his peripheral vision was on this mission. But then, her breath caught in her throat and she almost fell off her chair when he met her eyes and held her stare.

"It takes some kind of crazy man to go down into that temple. I told Chance that it was suicide," John explained to the group like none of them had heard this before or seen that kind of insane behavior before. "You must have a death wish or something, no fear. One thinks that a man who takes risk like that must have nothing or no one to live for. But whatever your reasons for taking such ridiculous risks we are sure grateful you are so brave."

Chance smiled nervously and squirmed in his seat. He hated the feeling of being on display.

"Yes, yes, it is all in a day's work for Mr Chance," Ilsa responded sarcastically. "Get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, but instead of just a cup of coffee, like the rest of us do to wake up, Mr Chance recklessly throws himself willingly into suicide missions, risking his life without any regard to anything, takes gigantic risks, never knows when to stop..." Ilsa cut her rant short when she noticed five sets of eyes staring at her. The other set, responsible for the rant, nervously looking anywhere but at her.

A light bulb went off in Ames' head as her stare turned to a bemused smile while she now glanced from Chance to Ilsa and back to Chance.

"Um," John looked to Winston as he hesitated as if to ask if it was okay to continue. "What we were wondering is," he now looked at Chance again, "if you'd consider coming back to the temple with us."

Chance leaned forward on the table, "Back?"

"Yes, we've got the grant, we can go back and do it right, like you said we could." John now was completely confident of Chance's abilities the same as Winston and Guerrero had once assured him during a moment of doubt. "Having you come would be a huge help. You know the traps, you understand how those ancient minds work. It'll be fun, dangerous, right up your alley."

Ilsa's chair scraped across the floor as she slapped her hands on the table and pushed herself up, "gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of paper work to do." She walked up to the brothers and shook each of their hands. "I'm truly happy for you both. And I am glad we could help, please take care." She gracefully exited the conference room and never looked back.

Chance watched her get up and leave the table and his eyes followed her into her office where she slid the door shut. When he turned his attention back to the room he was met with questioning eyes.

Then he got a smile on his face, "Gentlemen, as tempting as your offer sounds and as much as I'm sure I'd enjoy it." He placed his hands on the table and in an exaggerated motion pushed himself off his chair, "I'm going to have to decline." He walked over to the door.

"I am going to try to turn over a new leaf, you know, try to be more careful, less reckless. Pick my assignments with a little more caution," he shrugged. The people around the table stared at him with incredible shock, especially Winston, he'd bet he'd never see the day when Chance finally...

Chance continued, "You were right." he pointed to John. "Someone who behaves so reckless and carefree towards dangers as I did...well, yes, you'd think they had no one to live for, no real meaningful reason to stay alive," he glanced towards Ilsa's office. He then reached out and shook both men's hands, "I wish you much success and I am confident with the two of you together you will manage just fine. Now if you'll excuse me. There is something I need to deal with."

Before he slid the door completely shut behind him, he poked his head through and added, "Winston, shop's closed down for a few weeks." He winked and completely closed the door, sauntering away smiling carefree to himself.

The room was quiet for a few moments. Finally, Ames threw the cell phone she'd be holding at a bewildered Winston. "I told you something happened between those two, I even bet you. But no, 'keep your mouth shut Ames' you said, 'don't you dare say anything when we rescue them.' Please, I knew the moment they walked on the plane. You guys owe me 50 bucks!

Winston didn't care a phone was hurled at him, he was deep in thought. He knew Chance and Ilsa were fighting an emotional battle, he'd seen it months ago. But the damn man was so stubborn. Hell, so was she. Winston leaned back in his chair, crossed his fingers over his belly and began to chuckle. "I'll be damned."

Chance knocked gently on Ilsa's door then slid it open. She was busy working on her computer, her eyes looked red but they were dry.

He never said a word and when she looked up she let out an annoyed huff and pushed herself up from her desk. "Christopher, you owe me no explanation. We are not a couple. I cannot and would not expect you to stop what you do because of me," she walked over to the window and looked out as she folded her arms in front of her. Over her shoulder she added, "We never made any promises, it was one night on a boat, we were emotional and lost and hurt, we turned to each other, it's completely natural and understandable. And you will never stop this dangerous job and I have no rights or say on the matter," her voice broke up.

Chance pushed his hands deep into his pockets. That was the first time she had ever addressed him as Christopher since she appeared in front of him in Nepal. He mused, either she was really, really mad or their relationship had taken on a new emotional intimacy.

"Ilsa, I can't stop what I do," he stepped forward as she nodded her head towards the night rain. "You are right, this is what I do, this is my job. There is no magical number for the amount of people I can save to justify ending this work," he tried putting his hands on her shoulders, but she slightly pulled away, walked to her desk and fiddled with some papers.

_Not anymore, this isn't going down like this anymore_, Chance didn't put too much thought into his next move.

He walked up to her, turned her around, grabbed her hips and sat her down on the desk. He parked himself between her legs, put both hands under her hair and held her neck. He stared directly into her eyes, "Ilsa, you are right, this may never stop. But I can promise you this...from now on I will be more careful..." When she pulled her eyes away, Chance regained their contact, "no more crazy risks, no more diving into danger without first discussing it with you. I will not be so reckless," he said in a way that sounded like he was reciting an oath and that his hand should be on his heart instead of sliding down her arm sneaking to her waist and pulling her closer. He leaned in and gave her a soft, passionate kiss.

"Sealed with a kiss?" Ilsa questioned him when they parted.

He just gave her a one-sided smile and pulled away.

"Here, grab your coat, I have somewhere to take you," he reached for her umbrella then helped her put her coat on. He did it so quickly and efficiently, just like with the buttons, that she had no time to even react or protest. Nor did anyone left in the conference room.

Within minutes Chance and Ilsa were out in the rain. Though the wind had died down, the streets were void of casual walkers, only those caught without notice. The water was starting to accumulate by the drains and puddles reflected on the streets like black mirrors.

"It's hardly the time for a walk," Ilsa said as she shivered and snuggled down into Chance's embrace. He had one arm around her shoulders and with the other held the umbrella to shelter them from the rain.

"It's not a casual stroll, I have a specific destination in mind," Chance gave her shoulder an extra squeeze. "It's not that far, it'll take us about 30 minutes."

"30 minutes, in this rain?" Ilsa pulled away and looked at him like he had just grown horns in his head.

"We walked longer in the rain forest," Chance said, urging her along with him as they turned down Market Street towards the bay. "Besides, don't worry too much about getting a chill, I think we've got this warming up thing down to an art." The way he smiled sent a surge of warmth through her.

Ilsa had to admit that even though she was cold and her feet were getting wet she was beyond curious. There was also a warmth and comfort throughout her body that made her feel like she was in the only place in the world she belonged.

She wasn't completely okay with Chance's new revelation that he would be more careful, the fact was no matter how careful he was, every time he went into the field there was a great possibility he'd not come back. But, she was beginning to realize that being with Chance, no matter how long or short it was, would be worth the constant risk hanging over their heads. As much as it pained her to admit, having him for a little while was better than not at all. Beside, he was after all the most qualified person in the world to do what he did and he did it extremely well. She had been around long enough to know the odds that were stacked against him everything he was in a dangerous situation didn't seem to apply to him.

What was he up to? She looked up at his content face. He was showing a new openness towards her she had never saw with him before. He had spent that last year frustrating her, not admitting his concern for her specifically, always dodging that questions, always making it sound like his worry was for the crew in general.

As far as her feelings towards him...she couldn't pinpoint the exact moment she had started worrying about him more than usual when he went out on missions. Almost from the moment he saved her life she found it difficult not to think of him. What she was thinking in regards to him, she wasn't sure, just that he was always on her mind. But there was no question, the physical attraction was instantaneous.

They arrived 35 minutes later at The Embarcadero waterfront. The rain had slowed to just a mist, the bay water calmed like it was just waiting for them to arrive to behave.

They strolled along the seawall until they reached an area of private docks. Ilsa breathed in the salty air and let it clear her mind.

"We're here," Chance stopped and lightly directed her with a soft push in her lower back to turn down one of the docks.

Ilsa turned to him with a suspicious look in her eyes, "Mr Chance, what are we doing here?"

"Humour me," he smiled and followed her.

When they had almost reached the end of the dock Chance jumped in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Close your eyes." She obeyed, then he scooped her up. "Trust me."

For Ilsa, that wasn't a problem.

She felt them move down a few steps. He then gently placed her down on a floor.

"Okay, open your eyes."

"What is this?" she looked around her eyes wide and luminous.

"It's a boat."

"Yes, I can see it's a boat, but what are we doing on it. You can't just jump into someone's boat, these are private property..." she cut herself off, "my goodness, she is a beauty...How?.."

"Yes, she is and the boat isn't bad either," he walked up to with her two glasses and a bottle of wine. "It's exactly like the wooden boat we took shelter in, minus the damage and its supplies are a little more extravagant," he held up the wine with a boyish shrug.

"Why are we here," she whispered, feeling a surge of excitement. This was definitely a different side of Chance, had she actually managed to break through his many guards?

Chance poured them each a glass of wine and handed her one, then he took her hands and led her to a comfortable and cozy furnished deck area. There was already a fire blazing in an outdoor fire pit.

"Well," Chance took her glass as he helped her take her coat off and directed her to a plush couch, then took a blanket and covered her. "When a guy spends an entire day down in an ancient temple, defying death not once but several times, he gets a bit of time to think about his life and those in it and what's really important." He handed her back her wine. Yes, every assignment was death-defying but something different was happening between him and Ilsa. Her stubborn persistence was breaking down his wall. Helping him feel something he thought was dead inside and didn't care about. He was feeling alive again.

"You still didn't answer why we are on this boat," she took a sip and watched Chance as he walked over and sat next to her.

"The boat belongs to a friend, he owes me a favour," he put his arm around her and she nestled down into his embrace.

"So he's giving you the boat for a romantic evening, that's very sweet," Ilsa took a moment to take in the beautiful boat. It was a little bigger than the one they had taken refuge on. It must be worth a pretty penny.

"I thought this boat would be the perfect setting for us to explore the passionate feelings we had on our damaged, beached boat," he adjusted his position to look her straight in the eye. "And finally come clean about all these emotions I think we've both been fighting for months."

Ilsa took a big gulp. Oh god, they were finally going to address what had been happening between them. Her heart raced.

"We've been through a lot since we've met and especially on this mission. And while we finally succumbed to the physical attraction we've fought so hard and long to contain," Ilsa's face turned a few shades of red as her mind flashed back to the boat. "We have yet to deal with the emotional stuff.

"I don't know where we go from here, all I know is that I want to move forward and see where it take us," Chance's openness surprised even himself.

"We've got a lot to discuss, it might take a while," Ilsa looked up at the sky as if calculating how quickly daylight would come.

"That is why," Chance's signature grin appeared on his face, "the boat is ours for a few weeks." Chance got up and started untying the yacht from the dock.

Ilsa's mouth fell open and she stood up. "That's where you were today, you were here, arranging this."

He looked back at her and smiled with raised eyebrows. "You got me."

Ilsa protested slightly as Chance pushed the boat away from the dock, "I have no clothes, no bag packed, what you are doing? We can't just leave, now...this minute."

Chance just pointed to a Louis Vuitton bag that had gone unnoticed off to the side. "I had your housekeeper pack everything you'll need." He started to walk toward the bridge to start the engines, then stopped and looked back at her stunned face, "I hand picked a few items myself," he winked at her in a devilish way and started off again.

Ilsa was still trying to process what was happening. Was this really happening, could she just leave everything without notice? Why not, she didn't really care, her work wasn't going anywhere. But then a thought occurred to her.

"Chance..." Ilsa yelled, stopping him in his tracks. She nervously glanced around at the crowded harbour and the big sea out in front of them, "do you even know how to drive this boat?" No sooner had the words left her mouth when she realized how silly they sounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

**THE END**

**A/N: This chapter was written with the idea that it's a _Series_ ending story. It's as happily ever after as Christopher Chance can get. **

**No he can't stop doing what he does, but he has finally come to grips with all his demons and has finally allowed himself to let go and love again...something the series several times showed was a struggle for Chance. **

** How many episodes did we see where at the end we hear Winston narrates that Chance still thinks about Katherine, Chance looking at the love between John Gray and Emily(Sanctuary), wanted love but never allowing it in, whether it was fear of the person he loved would get hurt (walking away from Emma) or the idea he didn't deserve love and when he began to care he'd leave for various fears (Salvage & Reclamation: leaving Maria because he DID care)**

**To me this hinted that eventually, had the series be allowed to continue, he would finally deal with his attachment issues and start to believe that yes, he does deserve love. Fact is that is how all this started...Christopher Chance/Human Target...was him falling in love with Katherine. So it's only fitting...in the end he finds and accepts love again...well the best he can.**


End file.
